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"IN  THE 
TWINKLING 
OF  AN  EYE" 


By  Sydney  Watson 

Author  of 

"The  Mark  of  the  Beast" 

"Life's  Lookout",   "Wops,  the  Waif 

Etc 


>:>? 


Copyright  1918 

THE    BIOLA    BOOK    ROOM 

BIBLE  INSTITUTE  OF  LOS  ANGELES 

536-558  South  Hope  Street 

Los  Angeles,  Cal. 


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AUTHOR'S  FOREWORD 


4r 


SOME  years  ago,  I  received  from  an  important  Southern 
town,  a  letter  from  a  Ladies'  Temperance  Committee,  to 
this  effect:— "Sir,  We,  the  undersigned,  are  a  committee  of 
Ladies,  who,  for  many  years,  have  purchased  your  "Stories  for 
the  People"  in  very  large  numbers,  for  free  distribution  and 
loan;  always  assuming  that  you  were  to  be  thoroughly  relied 
upon  as  an  upholder  of  strict  Total-abstinence  principles.  But 
your  latest  story  has  sadly  undeceived  us,  as  regards  your  use- 
fulness as  a  worker  in  the  great  cause  we  are  pledged  to  uphold 

and  further.    On  pp of  your  last  story,  you  make  your  hero, 

returning  from  a  day's  run  with  the  hounds,  come  upon  a  woman 
lying  in  a  lonely  place,  who  has  been  injured  in  a  trap  accident. 
You  say,  speaking  of  your  hero's  prompt  help  to  the  woman,  that 
"taking  his  hunting  flask  from  his  pocket,  he  forced  a  few  drops 
of  the  brandy  between  the  woman's  lips,  etc."  Now,  sir,  we 
contend  that  had  you  had  the  cause  of  Total-abstinence  fully 
at  heart,  you  would  have  made  that  huntsman's  flask  to  have 
contained  water." 

So  much  for  the  letter.  The  moral  of  it  lies  on  the  surface. 
There  are  some  persons  who  seem  unable  to  see  anything  from 
the  side  of  real,  actual  life — that  Ladies'  committee  could  not 
— whose  vision  is  narrowed  down  to  the  tiny  slit  of  their  own 
cramped,  cabined  life  and  thought,  they  have  no  true  outlook 
upon  life,  as  a  whole. 

I  preface  this  foreward  with  the  above  incident,  because 
I  am  perfectly  certain  that  the  standpoint  from  which  I  have 
written  this  book  will  be  utterly,  absolutely  misunderstood  by 
many  earnest,  loving-hearted  people,  whose  eyes,  with  my  own, 
have  caught  the  upward  gaze  "from  whence  we  look  for  the 
return  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

I  would  at  once  acknowledge  that  the  inceptive  idea  of  writing 


vi  AUTHOR'S  FOREWORD. 

such  a  book  as  this  was  born  within  me  from  reading  "Long 
Odds,"  that  wondrous  little  half -penny  booklet  written  by  the 
late  General  Robertson,  I  believe,  a  booklet  that  has  been  so 
marvellously  "owned  and  blessed." 

For  five  or  six  years  the  idea  for  this  present  volume  has 
been  simmering  and  seething  in  my  mind.  The  first  and  only 
real  problem  I  had  to  face  in  the  matter  was  that  of  the  principle 
involved  in  using  the  fictional  form  to  clothe  so  sacred  a  subject 
(for,  to  me,  the  near  Return  of  our  Lord  is  the  most  sacred 
of  all  subjects.)  But  the  problem  of  the  principle  was  speedily 
settled,  as  I  remembered  how  wondrously  God  had  owned  and 
blessed  "Long  Odds,"  in  which  the  fictional  is  the  vehicle  of 
the  teaching. 

Then,  too,  there  are,  I  know,  myriads  of  people  into  whose 
hands  "Long  Odds,"  could  never,  by  any  chance,  fall — for  there 
are  multitudes  who  will  not  so  much  as  glance  at,  or  touch  a 
tract,  while  a  volume  will  easily  win  its  way  among  all  classes. 
There  is  an  enormous  percentage  of  attendants  at  our  churches 
and  chapels,  and  many  otherwise  very  earnest  Christian  workers, 
to  whom  the  whole  subject  of  the  Lord's  Second  Coming  is  an 
absolutely  unknown  realm  of  Truth — and  these  I  would  fain 
reach  and  arouse  with  the  message  of  this  book. 

To  those  Christians  who  are  looking  for  the  Return  of  the 
Lord,  to  whom  the  subject  is  the  most  tenderly  sacred  of  all 
subjects,  who  will  at  first  sight  condemn  the  use  of  the  fictional 
element,  the  dramatic  colour  in  this  book — and  many  good 
people  will,  I  am  assured — I  would  say,  first,  that  the  book  is 
not  written  for  them,  and  second,  that,  our  Lord  Himself,  speak- 
ing of  His  own  Return,  used  two  very  remarkable  illustrations 
from  life's  strangest  dramas.  First,  "As  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Noah,  even  so  shall  it  be  also  in  the  days  of  the  Son  of  Man. 
They  ate,  they  drank,  they  married,  they  were  given  in  marriage, 
until  THE  DAY^  etc."  Now,  think  what  a  myriad  dramas  were 
being  enacted  when  the  flood  came.  And  had  the  disciples  asked 
their  Lord,  privately,  after  His  utterance,  to  explain  more  fully 
what  He  meant,  what  thrilling  stories  He  could,  He  doubtless 
WOULD  have  sketched.  If  any  Christian  cavils  at  the  dramatic  in 
this  book,  I  would  refer  him  or  her  to  Christ's  own  pointing  in 


AUTHOR'S  FOREWORD.  vii 

the  picture  of  Noah's  time,  then  bid  them  fill  out,  by  help  of  the 
feeblest,  simplest  imagination,  the  picture  of  the  myriad  dramas 
that  were  being  enacted  when  that  flood  came,  of  old  time.  Then, 
if  the  objector  is  honest,  and  is  capable  of  the  least  imagination, 
he  will  say  "I  see !  and,  now  that  I  see  this  fact,  my  wonder  is 
not  that  there  is  a  certain  dramatic  freedom  in  this  book,  but 
that  the  writer  has  kept  so  powerful  a  restraint  upon  his  pen." 

Again,  Christ  said : — "As  it  was  in  the  days  of  Lot/'  etc.  Now 
think  over  this  saying  of  our  Lord's,  and  remembering  what  is 
actually  recorded  in  Genesis,  of  the  znce  and  crime  of  Sodom, 
(and  how,  alas !  even  when  saved  from  the  doomed  city.  Lot 
and  his  daughters  brought  away  much  of  the  vicious,  criminal 
essence  of  the  place  with  them,)  think  how  the  Return  of  our 
Lord,  presently,  will  mean  the  snatching  away  of  many  of  His 
own  out  of  scenes  infinitely  more  awful  than  anything  I  have 
used  herein,  or  ever  hinted  at.  A  book  written  on  the  subject 
here  chosen,  and  written  in  the  vein  our  Lord  Himself  suggests 
in  the  two  passages  referred  to  above,  could  not  have  been 
written  in  any  other  way — to  be  true  to  life,  and  to  the  subject. 

Should  any  reader  object  to  the  expository  lectures  of  Major 

H ,  as  the  chief  vehicle  for  the  doctrinal  teaching,  I  would 

say  that  personal  experience  has  proved  the  style  to  be  infinitely 
more  acceptable  to  readers  than  that  of  the  dialogue  mode. 

I  have  purposely  placed  special  emphasis  on  the  Jewish  side 
of  the  subject,  since  the  Jewish  question  is  infinitely  more  closely 
enwrapped  with  the  fact  of  our  Lord's  near  return,  than  many 
speakers  and  writers  give  prominence  to. 

SYDNEY  WATSON. 
"The  Fire,''  Vernham  Dean,  Hungerford,  Berks. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  Page 

I. — Taken  at  the  Flood            ....           ....           11 

IL— "The  Courier"        .'. 20 

III. — Flotsam      ....           ....           ....           ....           ....  26 

IV. — "I  ONLY  Reaped  what  I  Sowed"        ....           ....  33 

v.— "Lily  Work"            38 

VL— An  Interesting  Talk           ....           ....           ....  44 

VII.— "Coming"     55 

VIIL— Reverie         ....  64 

IX.— A  Threat    ....  75 

X. — In  the  Nick  of  Time           ....           ....           ....  82 

XL— "Long  Odds"             93 

XII. — The  Center  of  the  Earth  ....           ....           ....  101 

XIIL— A  Demon     110 

XIV.— Major  H on  "The  Coming!"      118 

XV.— The  Address             124 

XVI. — Her  Cabin  Companion          ....           ....           ....  136 

XVIL— Casting  a  Shoe       142 

XVIIL— Told  in  a  Cab          154 

XIX. — Tom  Hammond  Reviewing    ....           ....           ....  164 

XIXa.— "My  Mentor"            176 

XX.— The   Placard            ....  185 

XXL— Was  He  Mad           189 

XXIL— From  the  Prophet's  Chamber          ....            ....  195 

XXIIL— Passover  !     200 

XXIV.— "This  Saying  Shall  Come  to  Pass'' 209 

XXV.— Foiled!         218 

XXVL— A  Castaway              221 

XXVIL— A  Stricken  City     226 

XXVIII— "Hallelujah   Lass"             232 

XXIX.— In  St.  Paul's           238 

XXX.— Conclusion 246 


"IN  THE  TWINKLING  OP 
AN  EYE" 


CHAPTER  I. 
TAKEN  AT  THE  FLOOD. 

THE  man  walked  aimlessly  amid  the  thronging  press. 
He  was  moody  and  stem.  His  eyes  showed  his 
disappointment  and  perplexity.  At  times,  about  his 
mouth  there  lurked  an  almost  savage  expression.  As  a 
rule  he  stood  and  walked  erect.  Only  the  day  before 
this  incident  one  of  a  knot  of  flower-girls  in  Drury  Lane 
had  drawn  the  attention  of  her  companions  to  him  as 
he  strode  briskly  along  the  pavement,  and  in  a  rollicking 
spirit  had  sung,  as  he  passed  her : 

"Stiff,  starch,  straight  as  a  larch, 
Every  inch  a  soldier; 
Fond  o'  his  country,  fond  o'  his  queen, 
An*  hawfully  fond  o'  me." 

But  to-day  there  is  nothing  of  the  soldier  in  the 
pose  or  gait  of  Tom  Hammond. 

Yet  the  time  and  place  ought  to  have  held  his  attention 
sufficiently  to  have  kept  him  alert  to  outward  appear- 
ance. It  was  eleven  in  the  forenoon.  The  place  was 
Piccadilly.  He  came  abreast  of  Swan  and  Edgar's.  The 
pavement  was  thronged  with  women  on  shopping  bent. 
More  than  one  of  them  shot  an  admiring  glance  at  him, 


12  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

fo!  he  hid  the  face,  tl.'e  head,  of  a  king  among  men. 
But  he  had  no  eyes  for  these  chance  admirers. 

Tom  Hammond  was  thirty  years  of  age,  a  journaHst, 
and  an  exceptionally  clever  one,  at  the  time  we  make 
his  acquaintance.  He  was  a  keen,  shrewd  man,  was  gifted 
with  a  foresight  and  general  prescience  that  were  almost 
remarkable,  and  hence  was  commonly  regarded  by  his 
journalistic  friends  as  "a  coming  man."  He  had  strongly- 
fixed  ideas  of  what  a  great  daily  paper  should  be,  but 
never  having  seen  any  attempt  that  came  within  leagues 
of  his  ideal,  he  longed — lusted  would  not  be  too  strong 
a  term — for  the  time  and  opportunity  when,  with  prac- 
tically unlimited  capital  behind  him,  and  with  a  perfectly 
free  hand  to  use  it,  he  could  issue  his  ideal  journal. 

This  morning  he  seems  farther  from  the  goal  of  his 
hopes  than  ever.  For  two  years  he  had  been  sub-editor 
of  a  London  daily  that  had  made  for  itself  a  great  name 
— of  a  sort.  There  were  certain  reasons  which  had 
prompted  him  to  hope,  to  expect,  the  actual  editorship 
before  long.  But  now  his  house  of  cards  had  suddenly 
tumbled  about  his  ears. 

A  change  had  recently  taken  place  in  the  composition 
of  the  syndicate  that  financed  the  journal.  There  were 
wheels  within  wheels,  the  existence  of  some  of  which  he 
had  never  once  guessed,  and  which  in  their  whirling  had 
suddenly  produced  unexpected  results.  The  editor-in- 
chief  had  resigned,  and  the  newly  elected  editor  proved 
to  be  a  man  who  had,  years  before,  done  him,  Tom  Ham- 
mond, the  foulest  wrong  one  journalist  can  do  to  another. 

Under  the  present  circumstances  there  had  been  no 
honourable  course  open  for  Hammond  but  to  resign. 
That  morning  he  had  found  his  resignation  not  only 
accepted,  but  he  found  himself  practically  dismissed. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  13 

Enclosed  in  the  letter  of  acceptance  of  his  resigna- 
tion was  a  cheque  covering  the  term  of  his  notice, 
together  with  the  intimation  that  his  services  would  cease 
from  the  time  of  his  receipt  of  the  cheque. 

His  dejection,  at  that  moment  when  we  meet  him, 
was  caused  not  so  much  at  finding  himself  out  of  employ- 
ment as  from  the  consciousness  that  the  new  editor- 
elect  had  accomplished  this  move  with  a  view  to  his 
degradation  in  the  eyes  of  his  profession — in  fact,  out 
of  sheer  spite. 

To  escape  the  crowd  that  almost  blocked  the  pave- 
ment in  front  of  Swan  and  Edgar's  windows,  he  turned 
sharply  into  the  road,  and  literally  ran  into  the  arms  of 
a  young  man. 

"Tom  Hammond!" 

"George  Carlyon!" 

The  greeting  flew  simultaneously  from  the  lips  of  the 
two  men.    They  gripped  hands. 

"By  all  that's  wonderful !"  cried  Carlyon,  still  wringing 
his  friend's  hand.  "Do  you  know,  Tom,  I  am  actually  up 
here  in  town  for  one  purpose  only — to  hunt  you  up." 

"To  hunt  me  up !" 

"Oh,  let's  get  out  of  this  crush,  old  man,"  interrupted 
Carlyon. 

The  pair  steered  their  way  through  the  traffic,  crossed 
the  Circus,  stopped  for  a  moment  at  the  beautiful  Shaf- 
tesbury Fountain,  then  struck  across  to  the  Avenue.  In 
the  comparative  lull  of  that  walk  Carlyon  went  on : 

"Yes,  I've  run  up  to  town  this  morning  to  find  you 
out  and  ask  you  one  question:  Are  you  so  fixed  up — 
excuse  the  Americanism,  old  boy.  I've  a  dashing  little 
girl  cousin,  from  the  States,  staying  with  my  mother, 
and — well,  you  know,  old  fellow,  how  it  is.     Man's  an 


14  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

imitative  creature,  and  all  that,  and  absorbs  dialect 
quicker  than  anything  else  under  the  sun.  But  what  I 
was  going  to  say  was  this:  are  you  too  fixed  up  with 
your  present  newspaper  to  forbid  your  entertaining  the 
thought  of  a  real  plum  in  the  journalistic  market?" 

Hammond's  customary  alert  look  returned  to  his  face. 
He  was  now  "every  inch  a  soldier,"  as  he  cried,  excit- 
edly, "Don't  keep  me  in  suspense,  Carlyon ;  tell  me  quickly 
what  you  mean." 

"Let's  jump  into  a  gondola,  Tom.  I  can  talk  better 
as  we  ride." 

Carlyon  had  caught  the  eye  of  a  cab-driver,  and  the 
next  moment  the  two  friends  were  being  driven  along 
riverwards. 

"Someone,  some  Johnnie  or  other,"  began  Carlyon,  as 
the  two  men  settled  themselves  back  in  the  cab,  "once 
called  the  hansom  cab  the  gondola  of  London's  streets 


He  caught  the  quick,  impatient  movement  of  Ham- 
mond's face,  and  with  a  light  laugh  went  on : 

"But  you're  on  thorns,  old  boy,  to  hear  about  the  journ- 
alistic plum.  Well,  here  goes.  You  once  met  my  uncle. 
Sir  Archibald  Carlyon  ?" 

Hammond  nodded. 

"He  is  crazy  to  start  a  daily,"  said  Carlyon.  "It  is 
no  new  craze  with  him;  he  has  been  itching  to  do  it  for 
years.  And  now  that  gold  has  been  discovered  on  that 
land  of  his  in  Western  Australia,  and  he  is  likely  to  be 
a  multi-millionaire — the  concessions  he  has  already  sold 
have  given  him  a  clear  million, — now  that  he  is  rich 
beyond  all  his  dreams,  he  won't  wait  another  day;  he 
will  be  a  newspaper  proprietor.  It's  a  case  of  that 
kiddie  in  the  bath,  Tom,  doncher-know,  that's  grabbing 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  15 

for  the  soap — 'he  won't  be  happy  till  he  gets  it/  " 

"He  wants  to  find  at  once  a  good  journalist,  who  is 
also  a  keen  business  man;  one  who  will  take  hold  of 
the  whole  thing.  To  the  right  man  he  will  give  a  per- 
fectly free  hand,  will  interfere  with  nothing,  but  be 
content  simply  to  finance  the  affair." 

An  almost  fierce  light  was  burning  in  the  eyes  of  the 
eager,  listening  Hammond.  A  thousand  thoughts  rioted 
through  his  brain,  but  he  uttered  no  word;  he  would 
not  interrupt  his  friend. 

*'I  told  Nunkums  last  night,  when  he  was  bubbling 
and  boiling  over  with  his  project,  that  I  had  heard  you 
say  it  was  easier  to  drop  a  hundred  or  two  hundred 
thousand  pounds  over  the  starting  of  a  new  paper  than 
perhaps  over  any  other  venture  in  the  world. 

"Nunkums  just  smiled  as  I  spoke,  dropped  a  walnut 
into  his  port  glass,  and  said  quietly,  Then  I'll  drop 
them.' 

"He  hooked  that  walnut  out  of  his  wine  with  the 
miniature  silver  boathook — he  had  the  thing  made  for 
him  for  the  purpose, — devoured  the  wine-saturated  nut, 
then  smiled  back  into  my  face,  as  he  said :  'Yes,  Georgie, 
I  am  quite  prepared  to  drop  my  hundred,  two  hundred, 
three  hundred  thousand,  if  needs  be,  as  I  did  my  walnut. 
But  I  am  equally  hopeful — if  I  can  secure  the  right  man 
to  edit  and  manage  my  paper, — that  I  shall  eventually 
hook  out  an  excellent  dividend  for  my  outlay.  I  want  a 
man  who  not  only  knows  how  to  do  his  own  work  well, 
as  an  editor,  but  one  who  has  the  true  instinct  in  choos- 
ing his  staff." 

"Of  course,  Tom,  I  trotted  you  out  before  him.  He 
remembered  you,  of  course,  and  jumped  at  the  idea  of 
getting  you,  if  you  were  to  be  got.     The  upshot  of  it 


16  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

is,  nothing  would  satisfy  him  but  that  I  should  come  up 
by  an  early  train  this  morning — early  bird  catches  the 
worm,  and  all  that  kind  of  business,  you  know, — and 
now,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  my  particular  worm  had 
wriggled  and  squirmed  miles  from  his  usual  habitat, 
I've  caught  him.  Now,  tell  me,  are  you  open  to  treat 
with  Sir  Archibald?" 

''Yes,  and  can  begin  business  this  very  day!"  Ham- 
mond laughed  with  the  abandon  of  a  boy,  as  he  told,  in 
a  few  sentences,  the  story  of  his  dismissal. 

"Good!"  Carlyon,  in  his  own  exuberant  glee,  slapped 
his  friend's  knee. 

"Sir  Archibald,"  he  went  on,  "was  to  come  up  by  the 
10:05  from  our  place,  due  at  Waterloo  at  11:49.  He'll 
be  fixed  up — "Hail  Columbia!"  again — at  the  hotel  by 
this  time.  That's  where  we  are  driving  to  now,  and — ah ! 
here  we  are !" 

A  moment  later  the  two  men  were  mounting  the  hotel 
steps.  One  of  the  servants  standing  in  the  vestibule 
recognized  Carlyon,  and  saluted  him. 

"My  uncle  arrived.  Bates?"  Carlyon  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,  and  a  young  lady  with  him !" 

Carlyon  turned  quickly  to  Hammond. 

"That's  Madge,  my  American  cousin,  Tom.  I'm 
awfully  glad  she  has  come;  I  should  like  you  to  know 
her." 

Turning  to  the  servant,  he  asked,  "Same  old  rooms, 
Bates?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Three  steps  at  a  time,  laughing  and  talking  all  the 
while,  Carlyon,  ignoring  the  lift,  raced  up  the  staircase, 
followed  more  slowly  by  his  friend. 

Hammond  never  wholly  forgot  the  picture  of  the  sit- 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  17 

ting-room  and  its  occupant,  as  he  entered  with  Carlyon. 
The  room  was  a  large  one,  exquisitely  furnished,  and 
flooded  with  a  warm,  mellow  light.  A  small  but  cheerful- 
looking  wood  fire  burned  upon  the  tiled  hearth,  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  room  fragrant  with  a  soft,  subtle  odour,  as 
though  the  burning  wood  were  scented.  From  a  couch, 
as  the  two  men  entered,  a  girl  rose  briskly,  and  faced 
them.  She  made  a  picture  which  Tom  never  forgot. 
The  warm,  mellow  light  that  filled  the  room  seemed  to 
clothe  her  as  she  stood  to  meet  them.  "America"  was 
stamped  upon  her  and  her  dress,  upon  the  arrangement 
of  her  hair,  upon  the  very  droop  of  her  figure.  She  was 
tall,  fair,  with  that  exquisite  colouring  and  smoothness 
of  complexion  that  is  the  product  of  an  unartificial, 
hygienic  life. 

Her  face  could  not  be  pronounced  wholly  beautiful, 
but  it  was  a  face  that  was  full  of  life  and  charm,  her 
eyes  being  especially  arrestive. 

''Awfully  glad  you  came  up,  Madge!"  cried  Carlyon. 
"I've  run  my  quarry  down,  and  this  is  my  own  particular, 
Tom  Hammond." 

He  made  a  couple  of  mockingly-funny  elaborate  bows, 
saying:  "Miss  Madge  Finisterre,  of  Duchess  County, 
New  York.  Mr.  Tom  Hammond,  of — oh,  shades  of 
Cosmopolitanism! — of  everywhere,  of  London  just  at 
present." — Tom  bowed  to  the  girl. — She  returned  his 
salute,  and  then  held  forth  her  hand  in  a  frank,  pleasant 
way,  as  she  laughingly  said,  "I  have  heard  so  much  of 
Tom  Hammond  during  the  last  few  days,  that  I  guess 
you  seem  like  an  old  acquaintance." 

Tom  shook  hands  with  the  maiden,  and  for  a  moment 
or  two  they  chatted  as  freely  and  merrily  as  though  they 
were  old  acquaintances. 


18  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

The  voice  of  Carlyon  broke  into  their  chat,  asking: 
"Where's  Nunkums,  Madge?" 

Before  the  girl  could  reply,  the  door  opened  and  Sir 
Archibald  entered  the  room. 

One  glance  into  his  face  would  have  been  sufficient 
to  have  told  Tom  the  type  of  man  he  had  to  deal  with, 
even  if  he  had  not  seen  him  before.  A  warm-hearted, 
unconventional,  impulsive  man,  a  perfect  gentleman  in 
appearance,  but  a  merry,  hail-fellow-well-met  man  in  his 
deahngs  with  his  fellows. 

With  a  bit  of  mock  drama  in  the  gesture,  Madge  Fin- 
isterre  flourished  her  hand  towards  the  newcomer,  cry- 
ing, 

"Sir  Archibald,  George?  Lo,  he  is  here!"  She 
flashed  a  quick  glance  to  the  piano  as  she  added,  "If 
only  I  had  known  you  were  about  to  enter,  uncle,  I 
would  have  treated  you  to  a  few  crashing  bars  of  stage- 
life  entree-music." 

"Go  away  with  your  nonsense!"  laughed  the  old  man. 

"Nonsense,  indeed!"  the  girl  laughed  as  m.errily  as 
the  old  man.  Then,  with  a  sudden,  swift  movement, 
she  crossed  to  the  piano,  struck  one  sharp  note  upon  it, 
and  whispered  in  well-feigned  hoarseness,  "Slow  music 
for  the  three  conspirators  as  they  retire  to  plot  the 
destruction  of  London's  press,  and  the  accumulation  of 
untold  miUions  by  their  own  special  journalistic  produc- 
tion I" 

Her  fingers  moved  over  the  ivory  keys,  and  low,  weird, 
creepy  music  filled  the  room  with  its  eerie  notes. 

Sir  Archibald  and  George  Carlyon  fell  in  with  the 
girl's  mood,  and  crept  doorwards  on  tiptoe. 

"Number  three,"  hissed  the  girl. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  19 

And  Tom  Hammond  laughingly  followed  with  the 
two  other  men. 

''She  is  a  treat,  is  Madge!"  laughed  George  Carlyon, 
as  the  three  men  passed  through  the  doorway  and  made 
for  the  study-like  room  of  Sir  Archibald. 


CHAPTER  IL 

"THE  COURIER." 

TTVDR  two  hours  the  three  men  held  close  conference 
X  together.  At  the  end  of  that  time  all  the  prelim- 
inaries of  the  new  venture  were  settled.  Tom  Ham- 
mond had  explained  his  long-cherished  views  of  what 
the  ideal  daily  paper  should  be.  Sir  Archibald  was 
delighted  with  the  scheme,  and,  in  closing  with  Ham- 
mond, gave  him  a  perfectly  free  hand. 

"You  were  on  the  point  of  saying  something  about  a 
striking  poster  to  announce  the  coming  paper.  Mr. 
Hammond,"  said  the  old  baronet. 

"Yes,"  Tom  replied ;  "I  think  a  great  deal  may  be 
done  by  arresting  the  attention  of  the  people — those  in 
London  especially.  My  idea  for  a  poster  is  this:  the 
name  of  the  paper  is  to  be  'The  Courier.'  Very  well, 
let  us  have  an  immense  sheet  poster,  first-class  drawing, 
striking  but  harmonious  colouring,  and  bold,  arrestive 
title  of  the  paper  and  announcement  of  its  issue.  Fol- 
lowing the  title,  I  would  have  in  the  extreme  left  a 
massive  sign-post,  a  prominent  arm  of  the  structure  bear- 
ing the  legend  'To-morrow.'  On  the  extreme  right  of 
the  picture  I  would  put  another  signpost,  the  arm  of 
which  should  bear  the  words  'The  Day  After  To-mor- 
row.' I  would  have  a  splendidly-drawn  mounted  courier, 
the  horse  galloping  towards  the  right-hand  post,  having 
left  'Tomorrow'  well  in  the  rear." 

The  old  baronet  exclaimed,  "Rush  the  thing  on !  Flood 
the  hoardings  of  London,  Edinburgh,  Manchester,  Liv- 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  21 

erpool,  Birmingham,  Cardiff — all  the  large  towns,  and 
the  smaller  ones  as  well,  if  you  can  get  hoardings  big 
enough.  Don't  study  the  expense,  either  in  the  get-up  or 
in  the  issue  of  the  picture.  Don't  let  the  pill-sellers  or 
cocoa  or  mustard  people  beat  us." 

The  old  man  sprang  to  his  feet  and  paced  the  floor, 
rubbing  his  hands,  crying  continually, 

''Good!  good!  We'll  wake  old  England  up. 
We'll " 

"Toddle  into  lunch,"  interrupted  George  Carlyon. 
"That's  the  third  summons  we've  had!" 

Tom  Hammond  sat  next  to  Madge  at  luncheon,  and 
was  charmed  with  her  easy,  unconventional  manners. 
But  his  mind  was  too  full  of  the  new  paper,  of  the  great 
opportunity  that  had  come  to  him  so  unexpectedly,  to 
be  as  wholly  absorbed  with  the  charm  of  her  personality 
as  he  might  otherwise  have  been. 

He  did  not  linger  over  the  luncheon  table. 

"There  are  one  or  two  fellows.  Sir  Archibald,"  he 
explained,  "whom  I  should  like  to  secure  on  my  staff  at 
once.    I  don't  want  to  lose  even  an  hour." 

As  he  bade  Madge  Finisterre  good-bye,  he  expressed 
the  hope  that  he  might  see  her  again  soon,  and  the  girl 
in  reply  allowed  her  eyes  unconsciously  to  express  more 
than  her  words. 

"She  is  the  most  charming  woman  I  ever  met,"  he 
told  himself,  as  he  followed  Sir  Archibald  into  his  room 
for  the  final  word  for  which  the  baronet  had  asked. 
George  Carlyon  had  remained  behind  with  Madge. 

"It  was  about  the  first  working  expenses  I  wanted 
to  speak  to  you,  Mr.  Hammond,"  the  baronet  began. 
They  were  seated  in  the  baronet's  room. 

"I  will  have  fifty  thousand  pounds — or  shall  we  say  a 


22  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

hundred  thousand? — deposited,  at  once,  in  your  name  at 
— what  bank  ?" 

"Any  good  bank  you  please,  Sir  Archibald,  so  long  as 
the  particular  branch  is  fairly  central." 

"Capital  and  Counties — how  will  that  do?"  the  baronet 
asked,  adding,  "I  always  bank  with  them  myself." 

''That  will  do,  sir." 

"How  about  the  Ludgate  Hill  branch,  Mr.  Ham- 
mond?" 

"Could  not  be  better,  sir." 

"Settled,  then,  Mr.  Hammond!"  There  were  a  few 
more  words  exchanged  between  master  and  man,  and 
then  they  parted. 

As  Tom  Hammond  strode  along  the  Embankment 
towards  Waterloo  Bridge,  his  heart  was  the  heart  of  a 
boy  again. 

"Is  life  worth  living!"  he  cried  inwardly,  answering 
his  own  question  with  the  rapturous  words :  "In  this 
hour  I  know  nothing  else  that  earth  could  give  me  to 
make  life  more  joyous!" 

People  passing  him  saw  his  face  radiant  with  a  wond- 
rous joy.  It's  rare  to  see  peace,  even,  in  faces  in  our 
great  cities.  It  is  rarer  still  to  see  joy's  gleam.  He 
allowed  his  glance  to  flash  all  around  him,  as  he  mur- 
mured, "I  am  glad,  too,  that  I  am  in  London.  Who 
dare  say  that  London  is  dull,  or  grim,  or  sordid?  Who 
was  it  that  wrote,  "No  man  curses  the  town  more 
heartily  than  I,  but  after  travelling  by  mountains,  plain, 
desert,  forest,  and  on  the  deep  sea,  one  comes  back  to 
London  and  finds  it  the  most  wonderful  place  of  them 
all !" 

"Ah!  It  was  Roger  Pocock,  I  believe,  wrote  that 
sentiment.      Roger    Pocock,    T    looks   towards   yer,    sir. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  23 

Them's  my  denterments  !'  " 

He  laughed  low  and  gleefully  at  his  own  merry  mood. 
Then  as  his  eyes  took  in  the  river,  the  moving  panorama 
of  the  Embankment,  and  caught  the  throb  of  the  mighty 
pulsing  of  life  all  about  him,  Le  Gallienne's  lines  came 
to  him,  and,  while  he  moved  onward,  he  murmured: 

"London,  whose  loveliness  is  everywhere. 
London  so  beautiful  at  morning  light, 
One  half  forgets  how  fair  she  is  at  night. 

"London  as  beautiful  at  set  of  sun 
As  though  her  beauty  had  just  begun! 
London,  that  mighty  sob,  that  splendid  tear, 
That  jewel  hanging  in  the  great  world's  ear. 

"Ah!  of  your  beauty  change  no  single  grace, 
My  London  with  your  sad  mysterious  face." 

He  moved  forward  in  a  strange  rapture  of  spirit.  He 
forgot  even  "beautiful  London" ;  he  was  momentarily 
imconscious  how  he  travelled  or  whither.  He  might 
have  been  blind  or  deaf  for  all  that  he  now  saw  or  heard. 
The  drone  of  a  blind  beggar's  voice  reading  the  Scrip- 
tures, however,  presently  had  power  to  break  his  trance. 
He  paused  a  moment  before  the  man. 

'This  same  Jesus,"  droned  the  blind  man's  voice,  "who 
is  taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come  in  like 
manner  as  ye  have  seen  Him  go." 

Hammond  dropped  a  sixpense  into  the  beggar's  box, 
and  moved  away,  the  wonder  of  the  words  he  had  just 
heard  read  arresting  all  his  previous  thoughts  of  his 
glad  success. 

"Shall  so  come  in  like  manner!"  he  murmured.  "I 
wonder  what  it  means  ?" 

The  next  instant  a  woman's  pitiful  voice  filled  his 
ear,  crying: 


24  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

"For  the  love  of  God.  good  sir,  give  me  the  price 
of  a  piece  of  bread." 

He  turned  sharply  towards  her.  Her  face  was  hag- 
gard and  hunger-filled;  her  eyes  were  wells  of  despair. 
He  slipped  his  finger  and  thumb  into  the  fob  of  his 
coat.  The  first  coin  that  came  to  his  touch  was  a  shil- 
ling. He  dropped  it  into  the  emaciated,  outstretched 
palm. 

The  wretched  creature  gazed  at  the  coin,  then  at  him. 
Her  lips  moved,  but  no  words  came  from  them.  Her 
eyes  filled  with  a  rush  of  tears.  He  passed  on.  But 
the  incident  moved  him  strangely. 

*Tf  Christ,"  he  mused,  "ever  comes  back  to  earth 
again,  surely,  surely  He  will  deliver  it  from  such  want 
and  misery  as  that!" 

He  paused  and  looked  back  at  the  woman.  Her  face 
was  buried  in  her  hands.  Her  form  was  shaking  with 
sobs.     Curiosity  tempted  him  to  go  back. 

As  he  came  abreast  of  her,  a  child,  a  girl  about  nine, 
barefooted  and  tired-looking,  was  saying  to  the  woman, 
"What's  the  matter,  missis?  Wouldn't  that  swell  giv' 
yer  nuffink  w'en  yer  arst  'im?" 

"Give  me  nothing?"  The  woman  glanced  down  at 
the  child.  "Why,  he  is  kinder  than  Gawd,  fur  he  give 
me  a  shilling!" 

At  this  Tom  Hammond  hurried  away. 

"Kinder  than  God !"  he  murmured.  "Oh,  God,  that 
we  should  have  it  in  our  power  to  buy  such  happiness 
for  so  small  a  sum !" 

"Kinder  than  God"  he  repeated  to  himself.  He  was 
now  mounting  the  granite  steps  to  the  bridge.  "Of 
course,  one  knows  better;  yet  how  difficult  of  proof  it 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  25 

would  become,  if  one  had  to  explain  it  to  that  poor  soul, 
and  to  the  thousands  like  her  in  this  great  city !" 

For  the  first  time  since  leaving  Sir  Archibald  his  own 
joy  was  forgotten.  The  awful  problem  of  London's 
destitution  had  supplanted  London's  beauty  in  his 
thoughts. 


CHAPTER  III. 
FLOTSAM. 

V-/  Tom  Hammond  laughed  amusedly  at  his  own 
murmured  thought.  It  seemed  ridiculous  almost  to  try 
to  believe  that  only  nine  hours  before  he  had  been  a 
discharged  journalist,  while  now  he  was  at  the  head  of 
what  he  knew  would  be  the  greatest  journalistic  venture 
London — yea,  the  world — had  ever  seen. 

He  had  just  dined.  He  felt  that  he  wanted  some  kind 
of  movement,  some  distraction,  to  relieve  the  tension. 
He  was  in  that  frame  of  mind  when  some  kind  of 
adventure  was  necessary,  although  he  did  not  tell  him- 
self this,  being  hardly  conscious  of  his  own  need.  He 
knew  that  the  haunts  of  his  fellows — club,  theatre,  music- 
hall — would  only  serve  to  irritate  him.  Some  instinct 
turned  his  feet  riverwards. 

It  was  now  a  quarter  past  seven  o'clock.  Night  had 
fallen  upon  London.  Tom  Hammond  crossed  the  great 
Holbom  thoroughfare.  The  heavier  traffic  of  London's 
commercial  life  had  almost  ceased.  The  omnibuses 
going  west  were  filled  with  theatregoers,  and  other  pleas- 
ure-seekers. Hansoms  flitted  swiftly  either  way,  each 
holding  a  man  and  a  woman  in  evening  dress. 

Having  crossed  the  roadway,  he  paused  for  a  moment 
at  the  corner  of  Chancery  Lane,  and  let  his  eye  take  in 
all  the  scene.  And  again  Le  Gallienne  came  to  his  mind, 
and  he  softly  murmured : 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  27 

"Ah  !    London  !    London  !  our  delight, 
Great  flower  that  opens  but  at  night, 
Great  city  of  the  midnight  sun, 
Whose  day  begins  when  day  is  done. 

"Lamp  after  lamp  against  the  sky 
Opens  a  sudden  beaming  eye. 
Leaping  alight  on  every  hand. 
The  iron  lilies  of  the  Strand, 

"Like  dragonflies  the  hansoms  hover 
With  jewelled  eyes  to  catch  the  lover; 
The  streets  are  full  of  lights  and  loves, 
Soft  gowns  and  flutter  of  soiled  doves." 

He  turned  with  a  faint  sigh,  and  began  to  pass  on 
down  Chancery  Lane. 

"Oh,  London!"  he  mused,  "thy  surface  may  be  won- 
derful and  beautiful;  but  below — what  are  you  below 
the  surface?" 

"The  human  moths  about  the  light 
Dash  and  cling  in  dazed  delight. 
And  burn  and  laugh,  the  world  and  wife, 
For  this  is  London,  this  is  life! 

"Upon  thy  petals  butterflies. 
But  at  thy  root,  some  say,  there  lies 
A  world  of  weeping,  trodden  things. 
Poor  worms  that  have  not  eyes  or  wings." 

He  moved  onwards  in  the  direction  of  the  Law  Courts. 
Presently  he  neared  the  Waterloo  Bridge  approach. 
He  had,  all  unrealized  by  himself,  since  he  left  the 
restaurant  where  he  had  dined,  been  walking  towards  the 
river.  A  moment  or  two  after,  and  he  was  leaning  on 
the  parapet  of  the  bridge,  looking  down  into  the  dark 
waters.  Sluggish,  oil-like  in  appearance,  as  seen  in  the 
dull  gleam  of  the  lamps,  the  river  moved  seawards.  A 
sudden  longing  to  get  out  upon  those  dark  waters  came 
to  him. 


28  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

"If  only "  he  mused.     Then,  turning  briskly,  he 

came  face  to  face  with  a  man  in  a  blue  guernsey,  who 
was  crossing  the  bridge.  It  was  the  very  man  of  his 
half-uttered  thought.  ''If  only  I  could  run  up  against 
Bob  Carter!"  he  had  almost  said. 

"Good  evening,  Mister  Ham'nd."  The  man  in  the 
guernsey  saluted  with  a  thick,  tar-stained  forefinger  as 
he  recognized  Tom  Hammond. 

''Good  evening,  Carter."  Hammond  laughed  as  he 
added,  "I  was  just  wishing  I  could  meet  you,  for  I  felt 
I  should  like  to  get  out  on  the  river." 

"I'm  jes'  going  as  fur  as  Lambeff,  sir.  Ef  yer  likes 
ter  go  wif  me,  you'll  do  me  proud,  sir;  yer  know  that, 
I  knows!" 

A  few  minutes  later  the  two  men  sat  in  Carter's  boat. 
Hammond,  in  the  stern,  was  steering.  The  man  Carter, 
on  the  first  thwart,  manipulated  the  oars.  Hammond 
had  known  the  man  about  a  year.  He  had  done  him  a 
kindness  that  the  waterman  had  never  forgotten. 

"Aw'd  go  to  ther  world's  end  fur  yer,  sir,"  he  had 
often  said  since. 

The  man  was  ordinarily  a  silent  companion,  and  tonight 
after  a  few  exchanged  words  between  the  pair,  he  was 
as  silent  as  usual. 

Down  the  wide,  turgid  river  the  boat,  propelled  by 
Carter's  two  oars,  shot  jerkily,  the  rise  and  fall  of  the 
glow  in  the  rower's  pipe-bowl  synchronizing  with  the 
lift  and  dip  of  the  oars. 

Hammond  enjoyed  the  silence.  There  was  a  weird- 
ness  about  this  night  trip  on  the  river  that  fitted  in 
with  his  mood.  His  brain  had  been  considerably  over- 
wrought that  day.  The  quiet  row  was  beginning  to 
soothe  the  overwrought  nerves.     Where  he  sat  in  the 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  29 

stern  of  the  boat,  he  faced  the  clock-tower  at  West- 
minster. The  gleaming  windows  of  the  great  embank- 
ment hotels  lay  behind  him.  A  myriad  electric  lights 
were  on  his  right  hand.  The  gloom  and  darkness  of  the 
unlighted  wharfage  on  the  Surrey  side  were  on  his  left. 

Only  by  a  waterway  miracle  Carter  cleared  an  anchored 
barge  that,  defying  the  laws  of  the  river,  carried  no 
warning  light. 

*'Drat  'em !"  growled  the  man  Carter.  "They  oughter 
do  a  stretch  in  Portlan'  or  Dartmoor  fur  breakin'  the 
lor.  There's  many  a  'onest  waterman  whose  boat's  foun' 
bottom-up,  or  smashed  to  smithereens,  an'  whose  body's 
foun',  or  isn't,  jes,  as  the  case  may  be,  all  becos'  they 
lazy  houn's  is  too  'ide-boun'  to  light  a  lamp,  cuss  'em !" 

His  growl  died  away  in  his  throat.  The  glowing  fire 
of  his  pipe  rose  and  fell  quicker  than  ever,  telling  of  a 
fierce  anger  burning  within  him. 

Ssh!"  he  hissed.  Hammond  saw.  that  his  face  was 
turned  shorewards.  He  heaved  aft  towards  Hammond, 
and  whispered,  "Kin  yer  see  that  woman,  sir  ?"  He 
jerked  his  chin  in  the  direction  of  a  line  of  moored 
barges. 

Hammond  had  turned  his  head,  and  could  plainly 
discern  the  form  of  a  woman  standing  on  the  edge  of 
the  outer  barge  of  the  cluster. 

The  men  in  the  boat  sat  still,  but  watchful. 

"Do  she  mean  sooerside,  sir?"  whispered  Carter. 
"Looks  like  it,  sir.    Don't  make  a  soun'." 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  woman  leaped  into  the  air. 
There  was  a  low  scream,  a  splash,  a  leap  of  foam  flashed 
dully  for  one  instant,  then  all  was  still  again. 

The  waterman  plied  his  oars  furiously.  Hammond 
steered  for  the  spot  where  that  foam  had  splashed.    An 


30  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

instant  later  the  boat  was  over  the  place  where  the  body 
had  disappeared.  Carter  lay  on  his  oars,  and  peered  into 
the  darkness  on  one  side.  Hammond  strained  his  eye 
on  the  other  side. 

With  startling  suddenness  a  hand  darted  upwards 
within  a  foot  of  where  Hammond  sat  in  the  stern  of  the 
boat.  In  the  same  instant  the  woman's  head  appeared. 
Hammond  reached  out  excitedly,  and  caught  the  back 
hair  of  the  woman,  twisting  his  fingers  securely  into  the 
knot  of  hair  at  the  back  of  her  head. 

Carter  shipped  his  oars,  and  in  two  minutes  the 
wretched  woman  was  safe  in  the  boat.  Her  drenched 
face  gleamed  white  where  they  laid  her.  A  low  whim- 
pering sob  broke  from  her. 

''Turn  'er  over  on  her  face  a  little,  sir,  while  I  makes 
the  boat  fast  fur  a  minute  or  two,  sir,"  jerked  out  the 
waterman. 

"Pore  soul  ov  'er!"  he  went  on,  knotting  his  painter 
to  a  bolt  in  the  stern  of  a  barge.  "She  'ave  took  in  a 
bellyful  of  Thames  water,  an'  it  ain't  filtered  no  sort, 
that's  sartin !" 

Hammond  had  by  this  time  turned  the  woman  over 
on  her  face. 

Carter  came  aft  bearing  a  water-beaker  in  his  hands. 

"I'll  lift  her  legs,  sir,"  he  said,  and  you  put  this  beaker 
under  her,  jes'  above  her  knees ;  that'll  'elp  her  a  bit." 

That  was  done,  and  almost  instantly  the  woman  was 
very  sick. 

"In  my  locker  there,  sir,  I've  got  a  drop  o'  whisky. 
I  keeps  it  there  fur  'mergencies  like  this,"  said  Carter. 

Hammond  moved  to  allow  the  man  to  reach  a  seat- 
locker  in  the  stern.     The  next  minute,  while  Hammond 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  31 

supported  the  woman,  the  waterman  poured  a  few  drops 
of  the  spirit  down  her  throat. 

She  coughed  and  sputtered,  but  the  draught  restored 
her.     She  began  to  cry  in  a  low,  whimpering  way. 

''We  must  get  her  ashore,  Carter,"  cried  Hammond. 
"I'll  take  the  oars,  and,  as  you  know  the  riverside  better 
than  1  do,  just  steer  into  the  nearest  landing-place  you 
know." 

Carter  leaped  to  the  bows,  cast  off  the  painter,  and 
hurried  aft  again. 

''Jes'  'long  yere,  sir,  there's  an  old  landin'  as'll  jes' 
serve  us.  Wots  yer  fink  ter  do  wi'  the  pore  soul,  sir — 
not  'and  her  over  to  the  perlice?" 

''No,  neither  the  police  nor  workhouse,  Carter.  I 
wish  I  could  see  her  face,  and  see  what  kind  of  woman 
she  is." 

By  way  of  reply,  Carter  struck  a  match,  and  Ht  a 
small  bull's-eye  lantern.  When  the  wick  had  caught 
light,  he  flashed  it  on  the  face  of  the  woman. 

Her  eyes  were  closed,  her  face  was  deadly  pale.  Her 
hair  was  dishevelled.  But  in  the  one  flashing  glance 
Hammond  took  at  her,  he  recognized  her. 

"It's  Mrs.  Joyce!"  he  muttered  half-aloud  and  in 
amazed  tones. 

"Know  'er,  sir?"  asked  the  waterman. 

"A  Httle !"  he  replied.  "Her  husband  is  a  reporter — 
a  drinking  scamp." 

Carter  shut  off  the  light  of  the  bull's-eye,  at  that 
moment. 

"We're  jes'  'ere  now,  sur,  so's  best  not  to  be  callin' 
'tention  like  wi'  a  light." 


32  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

He  steered  the  boat  into  a  kind  of  narrow  alley-way 
between  two  crazy  old  wharves. 


Hammond,  rightly  gauging  the  kindly  heart  of  his 
landlady,  had  brought  the  drenched  woman  in  a  cab 
to  his  lodgings.  She  was  still  in  a  half-fainting  condi- 
tion when  he  carried  her  into  the  house.  In  two  sent- 
ences he  explained  the  situation  to  the  landlady,  whose 
natural  kindness  and  loyalty  to  her  lodger  made  her 
willing  to  aid  his  purpose  of  rescue. 

"I  will  carry  her  up  to  the  bath-room,"  he  said.  "Let 
your  girl  get  a  cup  of  milk  heated  as  hot  as  can  be  sipped, 
while  you  bath  this  poor  soul  quickly  in  very  hot  water. 
Then  let  her  be  got  to  bed,  and  have  some  good,  nour- 
ishing soup  ready.  She'll  probably  sleep  after  that. 
And  in  the  morning — well,  the  events  of  the  morning  will 
take  their  own  shape." 

Half-an-hour  later,  as  Hammond  took  a  cup  of  coffee, 
he  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  the  woman  he 
had  saved  was  in  bed,  and  doing  well. 

"Poor  soul!"  he  mused.  "That  brute  of  a  husband 
has  probably  driven  her  to  this  attempt  on  her  life.  I 
wonder  what  her  history  was  before  she  married,  for  I 
remember  how  it  struck  me,  that  day  when  I  saw  her 
at  the  office,  that  she  was  evidently  a  woman  of  some 
culture." 

It  was  nearly  ten  now.  He  had  no  desire  to  go  out 
again.  It  wanted  two  hours  quite  to  his  usual  bed-time. 
But  a  strange  sense  of  drowsiness  began  to  steal  over 
him,  and  he  went  off  to  his  bed. 

"What  a  day  this  has  been!"  he  muttered,  as  he  laid 
his  head  on  the  pillow. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
''I  ONLY  REAPED  WHAT  I  SOWED." 

HAMMOND  awaited  the  woman  whom  he  had  saved 
from  drowning. 

"She  has  slept  fairly  well,"  the  landlady  told  him, 
"and  I  made  her  eat  a  good  breakfast  that  I  carried  up 
to  her  myself,  Mr.  Hammond !" 

Now  he  waited  to  speak  to  her.  A  moment  or  two 
more,  and  the  landlady  ushered  her  into  the  room,  then 
slipped  away. 

"How  can  I  ever  repay  you,  sir!"  cried  the  woman, 
seizing  the  hand  that  Hammond  held  out  to  her. 

For  a  moment  or  two  her  emotion  was  too  great  for 
further  speech.  Hammond  led  her  to  an  armchair  and 
seated  her.  She  sobbed  convulsively  for  a  moment  or 
two.  He  allowed  her  to  sob.  Presently  tears  came.  The 
paroxysm  passed,  the  tears  relieved  her,  and  she  lifted 
her  sad,  beautiful  eyes  to  his  face. 

"You  know — oh,  yes,  you  must  know,  Mr.  Hammond 
—  (I  recognized  you  last  night) — how  I  came  to  be 
in  the  water.  I  tried  to  take  my  life.  I  was  miserable, 
despairing!    God  forgive  me." 

His  strong  eyes  were  full  of  a  rare  tenderness,  as 
he  said,  "But,  Mrs.  Joyce,  you  surely  know  that  death 
is  not  the  end  of  all  existence.  I  am  not  what  would 
be  called  a  religious  man,  but  every  fibre  of  my  inward 
being  tells  me  that  death  does  not  end  all." 

He  saw  a  shiver  pass  over  her,  as  she  hoarsely  replied, 
"I,  too,  realize  that  this  morning,  Mr.  Hammond.     But 


34  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

last  night  the  madness  of  an  overwhelming  despair  was 
upon  me.  My  life  had  been  a  literal  hell  for  years, 
until  yesterday  I  could  bear  it  no  longer.  I  was  famished 
with  hunger,  sick  with  despair,  and " 

She  sighed  wearily.  "Perhaps,"  she  went  on,  "if  you 
knew  all  I  have  borne,  you  would  not  wonder  at  my 
rash,  mad  act." 

"Tell  me  your  story,  Mrs.  Joyce,"  he  said,  gently.  "It 
may  relieve  your  overcharged  heart,  and,  anyhow,  I  will 
be  your  friend,  as  far  as  I  can." 

She  sighed  again.  This  time  there  was  a  note  of 
relief,  rather  than  weariness,  in  the  sigh. 

"My  father  was  a  well-to-do  farmer,"  she  began,  "in 
North  Hants.  I  was  the  only  child,  and  I  fear  I  was 
spoiled.  I  received  the  best  education  possible,  and 
loved  my  studies  for  their  own  sake,  for  culture,  in  all 
its  forms,  had  a  strong  attraction  for  me.  I  had  been 
engaged  to  a  young  yeoman  farmer  for  nearly  a  year. 
I  had  known  him  all  my  life,  and  we  had  been  sweet- 
hearts even  as  children.  Then  there  came  suddenly 
into  my  life  that  man  Joyce,  for  whom  I  sacrificed  every- 
thing. God  only  knows  how  he  contrived  to  exercise 
such  an  awful  fascination  over  me  as  to  make  me  leave 
everyone,  everything,  and  marry  him." 

For  a  moment  she  paused,  and  shuddered.  Her  voice, 
when  she  spoke,  again,  was  hollow,  and  full  of  tears. 

"I  killed  my  father  by  eloping  on  the  very  eve  of 
my  arranged  marriage  with  Ronald  Ferris.  Ronald  left 
the  country  as  soon  as  he  could  wind  up  his  affairs. 
And  I — well,  here  in  this  mighty  Babylon,  I  have  ever 
since  been  reaping  some  of  the  sorrow  I  had  sown. 
Not  a  penny  of  my  father's  money  ever  reached  me, 
and    that    brute    Joyce    only    married    me    for    what    he 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  35 

expected  to  get  with  me.  He  has  done  his  best  to  make 
earth  a  hell  for  me,  and  I,  in  my  mad  blindness,  last 
night,  almost  exchanged  earth's  fleeting  hell  for  God's 
eternal  hell." 

A  look  of  shame  filled  her  eyes  as  she  lifted  them 
to  Hammond. 

*'What  you  reminded  me  of  just  now,  Mr.  Ham- 
mond, I,  deep  down  in  my  soul,  know  only  too  well 
— that  death  does  not  end  all.  My  father  was  a  true 
Christian,  and  a  lay  preacher.  I  have  travelled  with 
him  hundreds  of  times  to  his  preaching  appointments, 
playing  the  harmonium  and  singing  solos  for  him  in 
his  services.  More  than  once  the  sense  of  God's  claim 
upon  me  was  so  great  as  almost  to  compel  my  yielding 
my  heart  and  life.  Would  to  God  I  had!  But  my 
pride,  my  ambitions,  strangled  my  good  desires,  and,  as 
I  said  just  now,  I  broke  my  father's  heart.  I  killed 
him,  and  ruined  all  my  own  life,  though  I  have  no  pity 
for  myself.  Then  London  life,  my  husband's  brutality, 
my  own  misery,  all  helped  to  drive  even  the  memory  of 
God  from  my  mind." 

"Yet,"  broke  in  Hammond,  "the  Christian  religion 
teaches  that  sorrow  and  suffering  ought  to  drive  the 
possessor  of  the  faith  nearer  to  God." 

There  was  a  hint  of  apology  in  his  tones  as  he  went 
on: 

"Don't  misunderstand  me,  Mrs.  Joyce;  I  only  speak 
from  hearsay.  I  have  heard  parsons  preach  it,  but  I 
know  nothing  experimentally  about  these  things  myself." 

She  smiled  in  a  slow,  sad  way,  and,  catching  her 
breath  in  a  kind  of  quick  sob,  said:  "Neither  have  I 
ever  known  anything  experimentally  of  these  truths. 
I  drifted  into  the  outward  form  of  a  correct,  religious, 


36  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

life.  I  learned  to  like  the  brightness  of  our  chapel 
services,  the  fun  of  choir  practice,  the  merry  company, 
the  adulation  heaped  upon  me  for  my  solo-singing.  Then 
there  were  the  tea-meetings,  the  service  of  song,  and 
a  multitude  of  other  mild  excitements  which  went  to 
brighten  the  monotony  of  a  rural  existence.  But  of 
God,  of  Christ,  of  the  Divine  life,  I  fear  I  knew 
nothing." 

Hammond  smiled  inwardly  as  he  listened  to  this  strange 
confession.    The  phraseology  was  new  to  him. 

*Tt  is  the  shibboleth  of  Nonconformity,  I  suppose,"  he 
told  himself.  ''And  I  suppose  each  section  of  religious 
society  has  its  own  outward  form  of  things  in  which 
it  trusts,  thinking,  caring,  nothing  for  the  great  Divine 
verities  that  should  be  the  true  religious  life." 

He  did  not  utter  his  thoughts  aloud,  but  asked  with 
some  apparent  irrelevance,  ''Where  is  yoilr  husband, 
Mrs.  Joyce?" 

"Off  on  one  of  his  drinking  bouts,  or  maybe,  locked 
up  for  drunkenness;  I  cannot  say." 

Her  lifted  eyes  were  full  of  beseeching,  as  she  went 
on,  "You  will  keep  secret,  Mr.  Hammond,  all  this  wild, 
mad  episode  of  my  life.  If  only  I  could  know  that  the 
sad,  mad,  bad  story  was  locked  up  between  God  and 
you,  your  kind  landlady  and  myself,  I  think  I  could  go 
back  and  face  my  misery  better." 

"Do  not  fear,  Mrs.  Joyce,"  he  replied  quickly.  "The 
affair  shall  be  as  though  it  had  never  been.  I  can  answer 
for  Mrs.  Belcher,  my  landlady;  and  for  myself  I  give 
you  my  word,  and " 

"God  reward  you,  sir!"  she  sobbed.  "Already  you 
have  given  me  clearer  views  of  Him  than  any  minister 
or  any  sermon  ever  did." 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  37 

A  few  moments  later  Mrs.  Joyce  rose  to  leave.  He 
pressed  three  sovereigns  into  her  hand,  and  in  spite  of 
her  tearful  protestations  made  her  take  the  money. 

*'If  you  are  ever  in  desperate  need,  come  to  me,  or 
write  me,  Mrs.  Joyce,  and  I  will  help  you,  if  I  can. 
Meanwhile,  be  assured  that  the  little  I  have  done  for 
you  I  would  have  done  for  any  stranger,  for,  after  all, 
the  human  race  is  linked  by  a  strange,  a  mighty  family 
tie.     Good-bye." 

She  wrung  the  hand  he  gave  her,  then  with  a  sudden, 
impulsive  movement  she  lifted  it  sharply  to  her  lips 
and  kissed  it  with  a  tearful  passionateness. 

The  next  moment  she  was  gone.  His  hand  was  wet 
with  her  tears. 

"Poor  soul  V  he  muttered. 

Passing  across  the  room  to  the  window,  he  glanced 
out.  She  was  moving  down  the  street.  Her  handker- 
chief was  pressed  to  her  eyes. 

"How  strange,"  he  murmured,  as  he  turned  from 
the  window,  "are  these  chance  encounters  in  life!  Like 
ships  at  sea,  we  sight,  hail,  exchange  some  kind  of 
greeting,  then  pass  on.  Do  we,  after  all,  I  wonder, 
unconsciously  influence  each  other  in  these  apparently 
trivial  Hfe-encounters?  If  so,  how?  Take  this  episode 
now,  for  instance.  Will  my  encounter  with  that  poor 
soul  have  any  effect  on  my  life,  or  on  hers?  If  so, 
what? 


CHAPTER  V. 

LILY  WORK. 

THE  room  wc  now  enter  is  a  large  one.  It  is  close 
under  the  roof  of  a  house  in  Finsbury.  The  man 
there  at  work  pauses  for  a  moment. 

The  room  is  a  workshop.  The  man  is  a  Jew — ^but 
what  a  Jew !  He  might  have  posed  to  an  artist  as  a 
model,,  a  type  of  the  proudest  Jewish  monarch  over 
Israel.  Face,  form,  stature — not  even  Saul  or  David  or 
Solomon  could  have  excelled  him. 

The  room  held  the  finished  workmanship  of  his  hands 
for  the  three  past  years.  And  now,  as  he  paused  in 
his  labour — a  labour  of  love — for  a  moment,  and  drew 
his  tall  form  erect,  and  lifted  his  face  to  the  window 
above  him,  a  light  that  was  almost  holy  filled  his  eyes. 

*'God  of  our  fathers,"  he  murmured,  "God  of  the 
Holy  Tent  and  of  the  Temple,  instruct  me ;  teach  my 
fingers  to  do  this  great  work." 

He  let  his  hands  fall  with  an  almost  sacred  touch 
upon  the  chapiter  he  had  been  chasing.  He  wist  not 
that  his  face  shone  with  an  unearthly  light,  as  for  a 
moment  his  lips  moved  in  prayer.  Then  quietly  reach- 
ing a  thick  old  book  from  a  shelf,  he  opened  it  at  one 
of  its  earlier  pages,  and  read  aloud. 

*'And  the  Lord  spake  unto  Moses,  saying,  See,  I 
have  called  by  name  Bezaleel,  the  son  of  Uri,  the  son 
of  Hur,  of  the  tribe  of  Judah  :  and  I  have  filled  him 
with  the  Spirit  of  God,  in  wisdom,  and  in  understand- 
ing, and  in  knowledge,  and  in  all  manner  of  workman- 
ship, to  devise  cunning  works,  to  work  in  gold,  and  in 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  39 

silver,  and  in  brass,  and  in  cutting  of  stones,  to  set 
them,  and  in  carving  of  timber,  to  work  in  all  kinds  of 
workmanship.  And  I,  behold,  I  have  given  with  him 
Aholiab,  the  son  of  Ahisamach,  of  the  tribe  of  Dan : 
and  in  the  hearts  of  all  that  are  wise-hearted  I  have  put 
wisdom,  that  they  may  make  all  that  I  have  commanded 
thee :  the  tabernacle  of  the  congregation,  and  the  ark 
of  the  testimony,  and  the  mercy-seat  that  is  thereupon, 
and  all  the  furniture  of  the  tabernacle." 

The  light — it  was  now  almost  a  fire — deepened  in  his 
eyes.  A  rare,  a  rich,  cadence  filled  his  voice  as  he  read 
the  holy  words.  His  fingers  moved  to  the  middle  of 
the  book.  It  easily  opened  at  a  certain  place,  as 
though  it  had  been  often  used  at  that  page.  Again  he 
read  aloud : 

''And  the  chapiters  that  were  upon,   the  top  of  the 

pillars  were  of  lily  work, and  the  chapiters  upon 

the  two  pillars  had  pomegranates  also  above, and 

the   pomegranates    were    two   hundred,    in    rows    round 

about  upon  the  other  chapiter, and  he  set  up  the 

pillars  in  the  porch  of  the  temple:  and  he  set  up  the 
right  pillar,  and  called  the  name  thereof  Jachin  ("He 
shall  establish")  ;  and  he  set  up  the  left  pillar,  and 
called  the  name  thereof  Boaz  ("In  it  is  strength"). 
And  on  the  top  of  the  pillars  was  lily  work:  so  was  the 
work  of  the  pillars  finished." 

With  a  reverent  touch  the  man  closed  the  book, 
replaced  it  on  the  shelf,  then,  lifting  his  eyes  again  to 
where  the  cold,  clear  light  streamed  down  through  the 
great  skylight  in  the  ceiling,  he  murmured : 

"How  long,  O  Lord,  shall  Thy  people  be  cast  off  and 
trodden  down,  and  their  land,  Thy  land,  be  held  by  the 
accursed  races?" 


40  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

For  a  moment  a  look  of  pain  swept  into  his  face. 
Then,  as  he  became  conscious  of  the  touch  of  his  lowered 
hand  upon  the  chapiter,  his  eyes  travelled  downwards 
to  the  exquisite  "lily  work,"  and  the  light  of  a  new 
hope  swept  the  pain  off  his  face. 

"The  very  fact  that  the  time  has  come,"  he  mur- 
mured, "for  us  to  be  preparing  for  the  next  temple,  is 
a  token  from  Jehovah  that  the  day  of  Messiah  draweth 
nigh." 

His  eyes  lingered  a  moment  on  the  rare  and  beautiful 
workmanship,  then  he  took  up  a  chasing  tool  and  con- 
tinued his  toil;  yet,  while  he  worked  he  kept  up  a 
running  recitative  of  Ezekiel's  description  of  the  great 
temple — for  he  knew  by  heart  all  the  chapters  of  that 
prophet. 

As  he  presently  repeated  the  words :  "And  the  Prince 
in  the  midst  of  them,  when  they  go  in,  shall  go  in;  and 
when  they  go  forth,  shall  go  forth,"  he  lifted  his  eyes 
with  a  deep  holy  rapture  shining  in  all  his  face. 

He  closed  his  recitative  with  a  ringing  note  of  triumph 
in  his  voice,  as  he  cried,  "It  shall  be  round  about 
eighteen  thousand  cubits :  and  the  name  of  the  city  from 
that  day  shall  be  Jehovah-Chammah" — "The  Lord  is 
there." 

There  was  a  moment  of  absolute  silence.  The  graver 
was  still,  the  hand  that  held  it  might  have  been  stone, 
so  rigid  did  it  become.  The  lips  of  Abraham  Cohen 
moved,  but  no  other  sound  came  from  him  save  the 
words  "Jehovah  was  there,"  and  he  prayed  aloud. 

In  the  midst  of  his  rapt  devotion  the  door  of  the 
workroom  opened.  The  slight  sound  aroused  the  dreamer. 
He  turned  his  face  in  the  direction  of  the  door,  and 
his  eyes  flashed  with  pleasure. 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  41 

*'Ah,  Zillah!"  he  cried  in  greeting.  The  girl  he 
addressed  closed  the  door,  thus  shutting  out  the  odour 
of  frying  fish.  She  crossed  the  floor  quickly,  with  a 
certain  eagerness,  and  came  towards  him  with  a  rare 
grace.  She  was  singularly  beautiful,  of  an  Eastern  style 
of  beauty.  Her  complexion  was  of  the  Spanish  olive 
tone,  and  her  melting  eyes  were  of  that  same  Spanish 
type.  Her  hair — a  wondrous  crown  of  it — was  blue- 
black.  She  had  a  certain  plumpness  of  form  that  seemed 
to  add  rather  than  take  from  her  general  beauty.  She 
was  sister  to  his  wife. 

"Supper  will  be  ready  in  five  minutes,  Abraham,"  she 
began.     "Will  you  be  ready  for  it?" 

He  smiled  down  into  her  great  black  eyes.  He  was 
never  very  keen  on  his  meals.  He  ate  to  live  only;  he 
did  not  live  to  eat.  She  knew  that,  and  had  long  since 
learned  that  his  labour  of  love  was  as  meat  and  drink 
to  him.  Her  eyes  glided  past  him  and  rested  on  his 
work. 

"It  is  very  beautiful,  Abraham!"  she  cried.  There 
was  reverence  as  well  as  rapture  and  admiration  in  her 
voice  and  glance. 

"It  cannot  be  too  beautiful,  Zillah,"  he  returned. 

Her  eyes  were  on  his  work.  His  were  on  her  face. 
He  read  in  it  the  rapturous  admiration  of  his  work- 
manship. 

"When  will  the  Messiah  come?"  she  sighed. 

"Soon,  I  believe!"  he  returned.  "Jehovah  rested  in 
His  creative  work  after  six  days'  labour.  A  thousand 
years  with  Him  are  as  one  day.  May  it  not  well  be, 
then,  that  as  there  have  passed  nearly  six  thousand  years 
(each  thousand  years,  representing  one  day)  that  He 
will  presently  rest  in  His  finished  work  for  His  people, 


42  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

through  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  as  He  did  at 
the  creation?" 

He  laid  his  tool  aside,  and  turned  to  the  beautiful 
girl,  as  he  continued  : 

"Besides,  do  not  our  sacred  books  say  that  when  three 
springs  have  been  discovered  on  Mount  Zion,  Messiah 
will  come?  Two  springs  have  lately  been  discovered  by 
the  excavators  in  Jerusalem,  and  our  people  out  there 
excitedly  watch  the  work  of  these  men,  expecting  soon 
the  discovery  of  the  third  spring." 

Her  eager,  parted  lips  told  how  she  hung  upon  his 
speech.  He  smiled  down  gratefully  into  her  great 
black  lustrous  eyes,  though  a  sigh  escaped  him  as  he 
said: 

"Ah!  I  wish  Leah  would  only  show  a  little  of  the 
interest  in  all  this,  that  you  do,  Zillah !" 

"You  must  not  blame  Leah  too  much,  Abraham,"  the 
girl  answered  quickly.  "She  has  her  children,  you  know. 
Mother  always  said  that  if  ever  Leah  had  babies,  that 
there  would  be  nothing  else  in  the  world  for  her  except 
the  babies.  Besides,  Abraham,  no  two  of  us  are  con- 
stituted alike,  and  Leah  is  what  the  Gentiles  about  here 
call  happy-go-lucky.  But,  Abraham,  tell  me  more  of 
what  you  think  of  Messiah's  coming.  Leah's  five  minutes 
will  be  sure  to  run  to  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"I  do  think  Messiah  is  coming  soon,"  cried  the  young 
fellow  excitedly.  "Who  knows?  Perhaps  when  the 
Passover  comes  again,  and  we  set  His  chair,  and  open 
the  door  for  Him  to  enter,  that  He  will  suddenly  come. 
Did  I  tell  you,  Zillah,  about  the  date  discovery  at  Safed, 
in  Palestine?" 

"No,  what  is  it?"  The  girl's  face  glowed  with  a 
strange  earnestness,  her  voice  rang  with  it. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  43 

"Safed,''  he  went  on,  quickly,  "is  a  little  town  to  the 
north-west  of  Galilee.  Our  Rabbi  there  has  discovered 
from  our  sacred  books,  that  Messiah's  coming,  and  the 
overthrow  of  our  enemies,  will  be  in  the  year  five  thou- 
sand six  hundred  and  sixty-six — nineteen  hundred  and 
six  according  to  the  Gentile  reckoning.  Our  Father 
Moses,  and  all  the  children  of  Israel  sang,  when  Jehovah 
delivered  them  from  the  Red  Sea: — 'Yea,  by  the  force 
of  Thy  swelling  waves  hast  Thou  demolished  those  who 
arose  against  Thee.  Thou  didst  discharge  Thy  wrath, 
it  devoured  them  up  like  stubble.'  Our  Rabbis — and 
even  the  Christian  Gentile  teachers — agree  that  the  deliv- 
erance of  our  race  from  Pharaoh,  and  the  destruction  of 
his  hosts,  picture  our  race's  future  as  well  as  its  past. 
And  the  numerical  value  of  'Thou  shalt  overthrow'  (part 
of  those  two  song-stanzas  I  have  just  repeated)  gives 
the  date  I  have  mentioned  as  the  time  of  our  deliverance 
from  all  our  troubles,  when  Messiah  shall  come." 

There  was  a  sudden  clatter  of  little  feet  outside  at 
that  moment,  and  a  boy  and  a  girl  burst  into  the  room. 

"What  do  you  think,  father?"  cried  the  boy,  with  the 
excited  impulsiveness  of  a  child  bursting  with  news. 
"A  boy — he's  a  Gentile,  of  course — whom  I  know  says 
that  Messiah  has  come,  that  the  cursed  Nazarene  was 
He,  and  that " 

"We  will  go  to  supper,  Reuben,  and  you  and  I  will 
talk  about  that  another  time."  Cohen  spoke  quietly  to 
his  boy.  He  had  his  own  reasons  for  checking  the 
subject  at  that  time. 

His  aunt  caught  the  boy's  hand,  and  danced  with 
him  out  of  the  room.  Rachel,  the  little  girl,  a  wondrous 
miniature  of  Zillah,  clung  to  her  father,  and  the  whole 
family  trooped  off  to  wash  their  hands  before  the  meal. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AN  INTERESTING  TALK. 

"rr^HE  Courier"  was  now  an  established  fact.  As 
1  a  newspaper  it  was  as  much  a  revelation  to  the 
journalists  as  to  the  general  public.  London  had  taken 
to  it  from  the  first  moment  of  its  issue.  The  provinces, 
instead  of  following  their  usual  course  of  waiting  to  see 
what  London  did,  took  their  own  initiative,  and  adopted 
the  new  paper  at  once.  Every  instinct  about  the  ideal 
paper,  felt  and  nursed  during  the  waiting  years  by  Tom 
Hammond,  had  been  true  instinct.  He  had  always  felt 
them  to  be  true;  now  he  realized  the  fact.  He  was  a 
proud  man,  a  happy  man. 

One  curious  feature  of  the  new  journal  had  attracted 
much  attention,  even  before  the  publication  of  the  first 
issue.  In  his  ''Foreword,"  as  he  had  termed  it,  in  a 
full  page  announcement  that  appeared  in  three  of  the 
leading  London  dailies,  Tom  Hammond  had  said: 

"An  important  feature  of  the  'Courier'  will  be  the 
item  or  items  (as  the  case  may  be)  which  will  be  found 
each  day  under  the  heading,  'From  the  Prophet's 
Chamber.'  A  greater  man  than  the  editor  of  'The 
Courier'  once  said,  'Every  editor  of  a  newspaper  ought 
to  have  a  strain  of  the  seer  in  his  composition.  He 
ought  to  have  the  gift  of  prophecy  up  to  a  certain 
point.  He  ought  to  be  so  thoroughly  conversant  with 
the  history  of  his  own  and  every  other  nation  that 
when  history  is  on  the  point  of  repeating  itself — as  it 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  45 

has  a  habit  of  doing, — he  may  not  be  caught  altogether 
napping.'    It  is  the  unexpected  that  happens,  we  say. 

True,  but  there  are  many  of  the  so-called  happen- 
ings of  the  unexpected  that  to  the  spirit  of  the  seer 
will  have  been  expected  and  more  than  half-pro- 
phesied. 

Now,  while  we  propose  that  the  whole  tone  of  'The 
Courier'  shall  show  the  spirit  of  the  seer  in  a  measure, 
we  shall  endeavour  to  make  the  particular  column  to 
which  we  are  now  alluding  essentially  new.  In  it  we 
shall  deal  with  every  class  of  subject  likely  to  prove 
mentally  arrestive  to  our  readers,  and  shall  make  it 
prophetic  up  to  the  limits  of  our  capacities  as  man, 
citizen  and  editor.  How  far  the  possession  of  the 
quality  of  the  seer  will  be  found  in  us  we  must  leave 
the  future — and  our  readers — to  decide.  But  we  cer- 
tainly anticipate  that  The  Prophet's  Chamber'  column 
will  be  one  of  the  most  popular  features  of  what  we 
shall  aim  to  make  the  most  popular  paper  of  the 
day." 

Tom  Hammond  was  no  believer  in  luck.  He  had 
left  nothing  to  chance  in  the  production  of  his  paper. 
There  was  not  a  department  left  to  subordinates  which 
he  did  not  personally  assure  himself  was  being  carried 
out  on  the  best,  the  safest,  lines.  For  weeks  he  literally 
lived  on  the  spot  where  his  great  paper  was  to  be 
produced,  taking  his  meals  and  sleeping  at  an  hotel  close 
by  the  huge  building  that  housed  "The  Courier." 

He  saw  very  little  of  Sir  Archibald  Carlyon  during 
these  weeks,  and  nothing  at  all  of  George,  or  the  fair 
American,  Madge  Finisterre.  George  was  in  Scotland; 
Madge  on  the  Continent. 

His  thoughts  often  turned  to  the  American  girl,  and 


46  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

his  eye  brightened  and  his  pulse  quickened  whenever 
he  heard  of  her  from  Sir  Archibald. 

Once  he  had  been  permitted  by  Sir  Archibald  to 
read  a  gossipy  letter  sent  by  her  to  the  old  baronet. 
He  laughed  over  a  quotation  in  that  letter. 

"I  am  not  like  the  Chicago  girl,"  she  wrote,  "of 
whom  our  Will  Carleton  writes,  who,  telling  all  about 
her  tour  in  'Urop,'  says, 

"Old  Scotland?     Yes,  all  in  our  power, 

We  did  there  to  be  through; 
We  stopped  in  Glasgow  one  whole  hour, 

Then  straight  to  'Edinborough.' 
At  Abbotsford  we  made  a  stay 

Of  half-an-hour  precisely. 
(The  ruins  all  along  the  way 

Were  ruined  very  nicely.) 

"We  'did'  a  mountain  in  the  rain. 

And  left  the  others  undone, 
Then  took  the  'Flying  Scotchman'  train, 

And  came  by  night  to  London. 
Long  tunnels  somewhere  on  the  line 

Made  sound  and  darkness  deeper; 
No ;  English  scenery  is  not  fine 

Viewed  from  a  Pullman  sleeper. 

"Oh,  Paris!   Paris!   Paris!    'Tis 

No  wonder,  dear,  that  you  go 
So  far  into  ecstasies 

About  that  Victor  Hugo  ! 
He  paints  the  city,  high  and  low, 

With  faithful  pen  and  ready. 
(I  think,  my  dear,  I  ought  to  know,^ 

We  drove  there  two  hours  steady.") 

"I  feel,"  Madge  had  written,  "that  one  wants  a  life- 
time to  'do'  the  Continent." 

Tom  Hammond's  thoughts  often  flew  to  the  gay  girl. 
This  morning,  having  seen  a  review  of  Carleton's  latest 
book  of  ballads,  he  had  been  reminded  of  her,  and  he 
laid  down  his  pen  a  moment,  as  he  gave  himself  up  to 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  47 

a  little  reverie  about  her.  An  announcement  aroused 
him. 

"Miss  Finisterre  and  Mr.  Carlyon,  sir." 

He  smiled  to  himself.    "Talk  of  angels,  etc.,"  he  mused. 

The  next  moment  he  was  greeting  his  callers.  Madge 
Finisterre  looked,  in  Tom  Hammond's  eyes,  more  radiant 
now  than  ever. 

"Fancy,  Mr.  Hammond,"  she  laughed,  when  the  greet- 
ings were  over,  "George  and  I  met  at  Dover!  He  had 
come  south  to  see  a  friend  off  from  Dover,  and  was 
on  the  pier  when  I  landed  from  the  Calais  boat.  We've 
been  down  to  that  dear  old  country  house,  but  I  wanted 
to  do  some  shopping,  and  to  see  how  you  looked  as 
editor-in-chief  and  general  boss  of  the  biggest  daily  paper 
in  the  world." 

Tom  Hammond's  eyes  flashed  with  a  pleased  light 
at  her  confession,  which  implied  that  she  had  thought 
of  him,  even  as  he  had  thought  of  her.  He  noted,  too, 
how  an  extra  shade  of  colour  warmed  the  clear  skin  of 
her  cheeks  as  she  made  her  confession. 

"Because,"  she  went  on,  "all  the  world  declares  that 
'The  Courier'  is  the  premier  paper  of  the  world,  and 
everyone  who  is  anyone — in  the  know  of  things,  I  mean 
— knows  that  Mr.  Tom  Hammond  is  'The  Courier.'  " 

The  talk,  for  a  few  minutes,  was  "shop." 

"You  don't  go  in  for  a  column  of  comic,"  Madge 
presently  said.  "If  you  did,  I  could  give  you  an  item, 
we,  George  and  I,  heard  in  the  train  as  we  ran  up  to 
town.  There  were  two  of  your  English  parsons  in  our 
carriage,  talking  in  that  high-faluting  note  that  always 
reminds  me  of  your  high-pitched  church  service, — 'dearly- 
beloved-brethren'  note. 

"Well,  the  two  parsons  were  telling  yams  one  against 


48  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

the  other — chestnuts  were  cheap,  I  assure  you, — and  one 
of  them  told  a  story  he  tacked  on  to  General  Booth — 
the  last  time  I  heard  it,  it  was  told  of  Spurgeon.  He 
said  that  the  General  was  going  down  Whitechapel,  and, 
seeing  the  people  pouring  into  a  show,  and  wondering 
what  there  was  so  powerfully  attractive  to  the  masses 
in  these  shows,  he  determined  to  go  into  this  particular 
one.  It  was  advertised  as  a  'Museum  of  Biblical  Curi- 
osities.' Just  as  he  got  in,  the  showman  was  exhibiting 
a  very  rusty  old  sword,  and  saying, 

"  'Now,  yere's  a  werry  hinterestin'  hobject.  This  is 
the  sword  wot  Balaam  'it  'is  hass  wiv,  'cos  'ee  wouldn't 
go.'     Booth  speaks  up,  and  says, 

"  'Hold  hard  there,  my  friend ;  you're  getting  a  little 
mixed.  Balaam  hadn't  got  a  sword.  He  said,  ''Would 
that  I  had  a  sword."  ' 

"  'That's  all  right,  guv'nor,'  cried  the  showman ;  'this 
is  the  sword  'ee  wished  'ee  'ad.'  " 

The  girl's  mimicry  of  the  coster-showman's  speech  was 
inimitable,  and  the  two  men  laughed  as  much  at  her 
telling  as  at  the  tale  itself. 

George  Carlyon  got  up  from  his  seat,  saying,  "But 
I  say,  you  two,  do  you  mind  if  I  leave  you  to  amuse 
each  other  for  an  hour?  I  want,  very  much,  to  run 
down  to  the  club.  I'll  come  back  for  you,  Madge,  or  meet 
you  somewhere." 

"Bless  the  boy!"  she  laughed.  "Do  you  think  I  was 
reared  in  an  incubator,  or  in  your  May  fair?  Haven't 
you  learned  that,  given  a  Yankee  girl's  got  dollars  under 
her  boots  to  wheel  on,  it  ain't  much  fuss  for  her  to 
skate  through  this  old  country  of  yours,  nor  yet  through 
Europe,   come  to  that,   even  though   she  has   no  more 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  49 

languages  under  her  tongue  than  good  plain  Duchess 
county  American.  I  told  the  'boys'  that  before  I  left 
home." 

George  Carlyon  laughed,  as,  accepting  his  release,  he 
nodded  to  the  pair  and  left  the  room. 

It  was  a  strangely  new  experience  to  Tom  Ham- 
mond, to  be  left  alone  with  a  beautiful  and  charming 
woman  like  Madge  Finisterre. 

The  picture  she  made,  as  she  moved  round  the  room 
looking  at  the  framed  paintings,  all  gifts  from  his  artist 
friends,  came  to  him  as  a  kind  of  revelation.  When  he 
had  met  her  that  day  in  the  Embankment  hotel,  he  had 
been  charmed  with  her  beauty  and  her  frank,  open, 
unconventionality  of  manner.  He  had  thought  of  her 
many  times  since — only  that  very  day,  a  moment  before 
her  arrival, — thought  of  her  as  men  think  of  a  picture 
or  a  poem  which  has  given  them  delight.  But  now  he 
found  her  appealing  to  him. 

She  was  a  woman,  a  beautiful,  attractive  woman. 
She  suggested  sudden  thoughts  of  how  a  woman,  loved, 
and  returning  that  love,  might  affect  his  life,  his  happi- 
ness. 

Her  physical  grace  and  beauty,  the  exquisite  fit  of  her 
costume,  the  perfect  harmony  of  it — all  this  struck  him 
now.  But  the  woman  in  her  appealed  strongest  to 
him. 

"Awfully  good,  this  sketch  of  street  arabs !"  she  turned 
to  say,  as  she  stood  before  a  clever  bit  of  black-and- 
white  drawing. 

An  end  of  a  lace  scarf  she  was  wearing  caught  in  a 
nail  in  the  wall.  He  sprang  forward  to  release  the  scarf. 
It  was  not  readily  done,  for  his  fingers  became  infected 
with  a  strange  nervousness.    Once  their  hands  met,  their 


50  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

fingers  almost  interlocked.  A  curious  little  thrill  went 
through  him.  He  lifted  his  eyes  involuntarily,  and  met 
her  glance.  A  warm  colour  shot  swiftly  into  her  face. 
And  he  was  conscious  at  the  same  moment  that  his  own 
cheeks  burned. 

**I  guess  I'll  sit  down  before  I  do  any  more  mischief," 
she  laughed. 

Woman-like,  she  was  quicker  to  get  at  ease  than  he 
was. 

"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Hammond,"  she  went  on,  as  she 
seated  herself  in  a  revolving  armchair,  "I  just  wanted 
very  much  to  see  how  you  were  fixed  up  here,  and  how 
you  looked  now  that  you  are  a  big  man." 

He  made  a  deprecatory  little  gesture. 

'*Oh,  but  you  are  a  really  great  man,"  she  went  on. 
"I   have  heard   some   big  people   talk   of   you,   and   say 


She  leaned  back,  and  smiled  merrily  at  him,  as  she 
went  on, 

"Well,  I  guess  if  there's  only  a  shadow  of  truth 
in  the  old  saying,  then  your  ears  must  often  have 
burned." 

Madge  Finisterre  gave  the  chair  in  which  she  was 
sitting  a  half  twist. 

"Why  don't  you  British  people  go  in  for  rockers?" 
she  asked.  "I  simply  can't  enjoy  your  English  homes 
to  the  full,  for  want  of  a  good  rocker,  wherever  I  go." 

An  indiarubber  bulb  lay  close  to  his  hand.  He  pressed 
it  without  her  noting  the  movement.  A  clerk  suddenly 
appeared.  Hammond  looked  across  at  Madge,  with  an 
"Excuse  me,  Miss  Finisterre,  one  moment." 

He  drew  a  sheet  of  notepaper  towards  him.  The 
paper  was  headed  with  "The  Courier"  title  and  address. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  51 

"Send  me,  at  once,  unpacked  and  ready  for  imme- 
diate use,  the  best  American  drawing-room  rocking-chair 
you  have  in  stock.     Send  invoice,  cash  will  follow,"  etc. 

That  was  what  he  wrote.  He  enclosed  it  in  an  enve- 
lope, then  on  a  separate  slip  of  paper  he  wrote : — 

''Take  a  cab,  there  and  back,  to  Wallis's,  Hol- 
born  Circus.  See  how  smart  you  can  be;  bring  the 
chair,  ordered,  back  with  you." 

From  his  purse  he  took  a  four-shilling  piece,  and  gave 
the  young  fellow  the  note,  the  slip  of  instructions,  and 
the  coin. 

As  the  attendant  left  the  room,  he  turned  again  to 
Madge,  who,  utterly  unsuspicious  of  the  errand  on  which 
he  had  sent  his  employee,  was  amusing  herself  with  a 
copy  of  "Punch."  She  looked  up  from  the  paper  as 
the  door  closed. 

'T  like  The  Courier'  immensely,  Mr.  Hammond," 
she  cried.  There  was  a  rare  warmth  of  admiration  in 
her  tone. 

"Thank  you.  Miss  Finisterre!"  His  eyes  said  more 
than  his  words,  "what  do  you  specially  Hke  in  it  ?" 
he  asked ;  "or  is  your  liking  of  a  more  general  character  ?" 

"I  do  like  it  from  a  general  standpoint,"  she  replied; 
"I  think  it  the  best  paper  in  the  world.  But  especially 
do  I  like  your  own  particular  column,  'From  a  Prophet's 
Chamber.'  But,  Mr.  Hammond,  about  the  Jew — you  are 
going  in  strong  for  him,  aren't  you?" 

"From  the  ordinary  newspaper  point,  yes,"  he  said, 
"I  cannot  quite  recall  how  my  mind  was  first  switched 
on  to  the  subject,  but  I  do  know  this — that  the  more 
I  study  the  past  history  of  the  race,  and  the  future 
predictions  concerning  it,  the  more  amazed  I  am,  how, 
past,   present,   and    future,   the   Jews,   as   a   nation,   are 


52  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

interwoven  with  everything  poHtical,  musical,  artistic — 
everything,  in  fact.  And  I  wonder,  equally,  that  we 
journalists,  as  a  whole — I  speak,  of  course,  as  far  as  I 
know  my  kinsmen  in  letters — should  have  thought  and 
written  so  little  about  them. 

"Take  their  ubiquitousness.  Miss  Finisterre,"  went  on 
Hammond.  "There  does  not  appear  to  have  been  an 
empire  in  the  past  that  has  not  had  its  colony  of  Jews. 
By  which  I  do  not  mean  a  Ghetto,  simply,  a  herding 
of  sordid-living,  illiterate  Hebrews,  but  a  study  colony 
of  men  and  women,  who,  by  sheer  force  of  intellect,  of 
brain  power,  have  obtained  and  maintained  the  highest 
positions,  the  greatest  influence. 

"Why,  in  China,  even,  isolated,  conservative  China, 
before  Christ  was  born  in  Bethlehem,  the  Jews  were 
a  prosperous,  ubiquitous  people,  worshipping  the  one 
God,  Jehovah,  amidst  all  the  foulness  of  Chinese 
idolatries." 

Aladge  Finisterre  listened  with  rapt  interest.  The 
man  before  her,  fired  with  his  subject,  talked  marvel- 
lously. A  good  listener  helps  to  make  a  good  talker, 
and  Tom  Hammond  talked  well. 

"It  is  not  simply  that  they  practically  hold  the  wealth 
of  the  world  in  their  hands,  that  they  are  the  world's 
bankers,  but  they  are  dominating  our  press,  ou,r 
politics." 

With  glowing  picture  of  words  he  poured  out  a  flood 
of  wondrous  fact  and  illustration,  winding  up  presently 
with: 

"Then  you  cannot  kill  the  Jew,  you  cannot  wipe 
him  out.  Persecution  has  had  the  eflfect  of  stunting 
his  growth,  so  that  the  average  Britisher  is  several  inches 
taller  than  the  average  Jew.    But  the  life  of  the  Hebrew 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  53 

is  indestructible.  Sometimes  of  late  I  have  asked  myself 
this  question,  as  I  have  reviewed  the  history  of  the 
dealings  of  so-called  Christianity  with  the  Semitic  race — 
Has  Christianity  been  afraid  of  the  Jews,  or  why  has  she 
sought  to  stamp  them  out?" 

The  pair  had  been  so  engrossed  with  their  talk  that 
they  had  lost  all  count  of  time.  A  half-hour  had  slippe'd 
by  since  Tom  Hammond  had  sent  his  messenger  to 
Wallis's.  The  young  fellow  suddenly  appeared  at  the 
door. 

"Got  it,  Charlie?" 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  to  his  question,  the  editor 
bounded  from  his  seat  and  passed  outside.  Thirty 
seconds  later  the  door  opened  again,  and  he  appeared, 
bearing  a  splendid  rocker  in  his  arms. 

Before  she  fully  realized  the  wonder  of  the  whole 
thing,  Madge  found  herself  seated  in  the  rocking-chair. 
Swaying  backwards  and  forwards,  and  blushing  and 
smiling,  she  cried : 

"You  are  a  wonderful  man,  Mr.  Hammond!" 

"You  said  you  could  never  fully  enjoy  our  English 
houses  for  want  of  a  rocker.  Now,  however  'angelic' 
your  visits  to  this  room  may  be,  you  shall  have  one 
inducement  to  slip  in — a  rocker." 

She  was  beginning  her  thanks  again,  when  he  inter- 
rupted with: 

"But,  excuse  me.  Miss  Finisterre,  what  about  some 
tea?  Shall  we  go  out  and  get  some,  or  would  you  prefer 
that  I  should  order  it  in  here?" 

"Oh,  here,  by  all  means !  I  can  have  tea  at  a  restaurant 
every  day  of  my  life,  but  with  a  real  London  lion — a 
real  live  editor — and  in  his  own  special  den.     Why,  it 


54  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

may  never  fall  to  my  lot  again.    Oh.  here,  by  all  means !" 
she  cried,  excitedly. 

He  squeezed  that  rubber  bulb  again.  To  the  lad 
Charlie,  who  appeared,  he  gave  a  written  order  to  a 
neighbouring  restaurant.  Twenty  minutes  later  the  tea 
was  in  the  room. 

Madge  officiated  with  the  teapot.  Hammond  watched 
her  every  movement.  A  truly  pretty,  graceful  girl  never 
looks  handsomer  to  a  man  than  when  presiding  at  a  tea- 
table.  Tom  Hammond  thought  Madge  had  never  looked 
more  charming.  The  meal  was  a  very  enjoyable  one, 
and  as  she  poured  out  his  second  cup  he  paid  her  a  pretty 
compliment,  adding: 

"To  see  you  thus,  Miss  Finisterre,  makes  one  think 
what  fools  men  are  not  to " 

He  paused  abruptly.  She  flashed  a  quick  glance  of 
enquiry  at  him. 

''Not  to  what,  Mr.  Hammond?" 

*'I  wonder,"  he  replied,  ''if  I  ought  to  say  what  I 
left  unsaid  ?'' 

"Why  not?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know  why  I  should  not,"  he  laughed.  "I 
was  going  to  say  that,  to  have  a  bright,  beautiful,  grace- 
ful woman  like  Madge  Finisterre  pouring  out  tea  for 
him,  makes  a  man  think  what  a  fool  he  is  not  to  marry." 

His  tone  and  glance  were  alike  full  of  meaning.  She 
could  not  mistake  him.  Her  colour  heightened  visibly. 
Her  eyes  drooped  before  his  ardent  gaze.  The  situation 
became  tense  and  full  of  portent. 

The  opening  of  the  door  at  that  instant  changed  every- 
thing. George  Carlyon  had  returned.  At  the  same 
moment  a  wire  was  brought  to  Hammond,  together  with 
a  sheaf  of  letters — the  afternoon  mail. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
"COMING." 

GEORGE  Carlyon's  entrance,  the  arrival  of  the  after- 
noon mail,  and  the  telegram  gave  Madge  Finis- 
terre  an  opportunity  to  escape.  George  Carlyon  was 
anxious  to  leave,  and  Madge  rose  at  once  to  accompany 
him. 

Tom  Hammond  did  not  press  them  to  stay,  for  he, 
too,  felt  awkward.  The  friends  shook  hands.  The  eyes 
of  Madge  and  Hammond  met  for  one  instant.  Each 
face  flushed  under  the  power  of  the  other's  glance. 

When  the  door  had  closed  upon  them,  Tom  went 
back  to  his  old  place  by  the  table,  his  eyes  involun- 
tarily sweeping  the  whole  apartment.  He  smiled  as  he 
suddenly  realized  how  empty  the  room  now  seemed. 
His  glance  rested  upon  the  tea-tray,  and  he  rang  for 
the  lad  Charlie. 

''Clear  all  this  away,  Charlie,  please,"  he  began.  Then 
with  a  smile  he  said,  "You  will  find  a  capital  cup  of  tea 
in  that  pot." 

The  boy  grinned.  At  his  first  glance  at  the  tray  he 
had  mentally  decided  that  he  would  be  able  to  have  a 
rare  feast.     A  couple  of  minutes,  and  the  boy  had  gone. 

Tom  Hammond  gathered  up  his  mail,  and  was  about 
to  drop  into  his  ordinary  seat,  when  he  remembered 
the  rocker.  With  a  smile  at  Madge's  occupancy  of  the 
chair,  he  dropped  into  it. 

For  fully  five  minutes  he  sat  still  thinking,  reviewing 
all  the  circumstances  of  the  peculiar  situation  upon  which 
the  unexpected  coming  of  George  Carlyon  had  broken. 


56  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

He  asked  himself  whether  he  was  really  in  love  with  the 
fair  Madge,  and  whether  he  would  have  proposed  to 
her  if  her  cousin  had  not  so  unexpectedly  turned  up?  He 
made  no  definite  reply  to  his  own  questioning,  but  turned 
to  his  mail. 

The  telegram  he  had  opened  at  once  on  its  receipt. 
He  turned  now  to  the  letters.  He  had  opened  all  but 
two.  The  last  one  was  addressed  in  a  woman's  hand- 
writing. Breaking  the  envelope,  he  took  out  the  letter, 
and  turned  first  to  the  signature  on  the  fourth  page. 

"Millicent  Joyce,"  he  read.  "Millicent  Joyce?"  he 
repeated.  Unconsciously  he  had  laid  his  emphasis  on 
the  "Millicent,"  and  he  forgot  the  "Joy^^-" 

But  suddenly  it  came  to  him  that  the  letter  was  from 
Mrs.  Joyce,  the  woman  whom  he  had  helped  to  save 
from  drowning  on  the  night  of  that  memorable  day  when 
the  great  chance  of  his  life  had  come  to  him. 

"Poor  soul !"  he  muttered.  'T  wonder  what  she  has 
written  about?"  The  next  instant  he  was  reading  the 
letter. 

Tom  Hammond  cast  his  eyes  over  the  letter  which 
Mrs.  Joyce  had  sent  him,  and  which  ran  thus : 

"Dear  Sir, 

"I  gave  you  my  word  that  if  ever  I  was  in  special 
trouble  or  need  I  would  write,  or  come  to  you  for  help. 

'T  did  not  promise  you,  however,  that  if  any  great 
joy  or  blessing  should  come  to  me,  that  I  would  let 
you  know.  I  don't  think  I  believed  any  joy  could  ever 
possibly  come  into  my  life  again.  But  joy  and  wond- 
rous gladness  have  come  into  my  life,  and  in  an  alto- 
gether unexpected  way. 

"You  will  remember  how  I  said  to  you  in  parting, 
that  morning,  that  your  strong,  cheery  words  had  given 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  57 

me  a  clearer  view  of  God  than  any  sermon  I  had  ever 
listened  to.  That  impression  deepened  rather  than  dimin- 
ished when  I  got  home.  My  husband,  I  heard,  had  been 
sent  to  Wandsworth  Prison  for  a  month,  for  assaulting 
the  police  when  drunk. 

"And  in  this  month  of  quiet  from  his  brutalities,  the 
great  joy  of  my  life  came  to  me.  I  began  to  attend 
religious  services  from  the  very  first  night  after  my 
return  home.  I  went  to  church,  chapel,  mission  hall, 
and  Salvation  Army. 

"One  night  I  went  to  the  hall  of  the  Mission  for  Rail- 
way Men.  A  lady  was  speaking  that  night,  and  God 
found  me,  and  saved  me.  All  that  I  had  ever  heard  from 
my  dear  father's  lips,  when  he  preached  about  conversion, 
came  back  to  me,  and  that  night  I  passed  from  death 
to  life. 

"The  subject  of  the  address  was  The  Coming  of  the 
Lord.'  I  listened  in  amazement  as  the  lady  speaker 
declared  that,  for  this  age,  God  evidently  meant  that 
this  truth  of  the  near  coming  of  Christ  should  have 
almost,  if  not  quite,  the  most  prominent  place  in  all  public 
preaching. 

"I  was  startled  to  hear  her  say  that  there  were  nearly 
three  hundred  direct  references  to  the  second  coming  of 
Christ  in  the  Gospels  and  Epistles,  and  that  there  were 
thus  more  than  double  the  number  of  references  to  that 
subject  than  even  to  that  of  salvation  through  the  blood 
of  the  Atonement. 

"With  her  Bible  in  her  hand,  she  turned  readily  to  a 
score  of  passages  as  illustrations  of  her  statement,  and 
all  through  her  address  she  never  made  a  statement  with- 
out backing  it  up  by  Scripture.  One  thing  she  said  laid  a 
tremendous  grip  upon  me,  and  led  me  to  an  immediate 


58  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

decision  for  Christ :  she  said,  'How  often  is  the  possi- 
bility of  sudden  death  advanced  by  a  preacher  as  an 
incentive  to  unsaved  souls  to  yield  to  God ! 

"But  how  poor  an  argument  is  that  compared  with 
the  near  approach  of  Christ!  Sudden  death  might  come 
to  one  person  in  a  congregation  before  twenty-four  hours, 
but  in  a  sense,  that  would  touch  that  one  person  only. 
But  if  Christ  came  to  take  up  His  people  from  the  earth 
— the  dead  in  Christ  from  their  graves,  the  living  from 
their  occupations,  etc., — this  would  affect  every  unsaved 
soul  in  every  part  of  the  country,  of  the  world,  even.'  " 

Tom  Hammond  paused  in  his  reading. 

''What  on  earth  can  she  mean?"  lie  murmured,  under 
his  breath.     Then  he  went  on  from  the  letter: 

"I  gave  myself  up  to  God  there  and  then,  Mr.  Ham- 
mond, and  am  seeking  now  to  live  so  that,  should  Christ 
come,  even  before  I  finish  this  letter,  I  may  be  ready 
to  be  caught  up  to  meet  Him  in  the  air." 

Hammond  paused  again. 

"What  can  the  woman  mean?"  he  murmured  again. 
With  the  letter  held  in  his  hand,  his  eyes  became  fixed 
upon  space,  his  mind  was  searching  for  something  that 
he  had  recently  heard  or  read  bearing  on  this  strange 
topic.  The  clue  seemed  almost  within  grasp,  yet  for 
awhile  he  could  not  recall  it. 

Suddenly  it  came  to  him.  A  volume  of  poems  had 
been  sent  to  him  for  review,  amid  the  excitement  of  the 
second  day's  issue  of  "The  Courier."  He  had  glanced 
rapidly  through  the  book,  had  written  a  brief  line  for 
his  paper,  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  book,  and 
promising  to  refer  to  it  fully  at  some  later  date. 

"That  book,"  he  mused,  "had  something  in  it  about — 
about " 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  59 

He  got  up  from  the  rocker,  took  his  place  at  his  table, 
then  wheeled  about  slowly  in  his  revolving  chair,  and 
began  searching  his  book-case.  In  an  instant  his  keen 
eye  picked  out  the  volume  he  sought.  He  wheeled  round 
again  to  his  table,  the  book  in  his  hand. 

He  turned  a  moment  to  the  title-page.  "Ezekiel  and 
Other  Poems,"  he  read.     "By  B.  M." 

"B.  M.,"  he  mused,  "Whom  have  I  heard  writes  under 
those  initials  ?  Ah !  I  rember !  Mrs.  Miller. — Barbara 
Miller." 

He  ran  the  gilt-edged  leaves  rapidly  through  his  prac- 
tised fingers,  his  quick  eye  catching  enough  of  the  run- 
ning pages  to  satisfy  him.  Suddenly  he  paused  in  his 
search.  His  eye  had  lit  upon  what  he  sought,  and  he 
began  to  read: 

"COMING." 

"At  even,  or  at  midnight,  or  at  the  cock-crowing,  or  in  the 
morning." 

'Tt  may  be  in  the  evening, 

When  the  work  of  the  day  is  done, 
And  you  have  time  to  sit  in  the  twilight 

And  watch  the  sinking  sun. 
While  the  long,  bright  day  dies  slowly 

Over  the  sea, 
And  the  hour  grows  quiet  and  holy 

With  thoughts  of  Me  ; 
While  you  hear  the  village  children 

Passing  along  the  street, 
Among  those  thronging   footsteps 

May  come  the  sound  of  My  feet. 

"Therefore  I  tell  you,  'Watch,' 

By  the  light  of  the  evening  star. 
When  the  room  is  growing  dusky 

As  the  clouds  afar; 
Let  the  door  be  on  the  latch 

In  your  home. 
For  it  may  be  through  the  gloaming 

I  will  come." 


60  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

He  paused  in  his  reading  for  a  moment,  for,  like  a 
voice  near  by,  the  drone  of  that  Wind  beggar's  reading 
came  to  him,  as  he  had  heard  it  that  day  on  the  embank- 
ment. 

''This  same  Jesus  shall  so  come  in  like  manner  as  ye 
have  seen  Him  go." 

"I  remember,"  he  mused,  "how  that  sentence  arrested 
me.  My  mind  was  utterly  pre-occupied  a  moment  before, 
but  that  wondrous  sentence  pierced  my  pre-occupation." 

His  eyes  dropped  to  the  poem  again,  and  he  read 
on: — 

"It  may  be  when  midnight 

Is  heavy  on  the  land, 
And  the  black  waves  lying  dumbly 

Along  the  sand; 
When  the  moonless  night   draws  close, 
And  the  lights  are  out  in  the  house; 
When  the  fires  burn  low  and  red, 
And  the  watch  is  ticking  loudly 

Beside  the  bed. 
Though  you  sleep,  tired  out,  on  your  couch, 
Still  your  heart  must  wake  and  watch 
In  the  dark  room; 
For  it  may  be  that  at  midnight 

I  will  come." 

He  read  rapidly,  but  more  eagerly  interested  each 
moment.  The  next  section  he  scarcely  paused  upon,  but 
the  fourth  he  lingered  over,  and  then  read  it  the  second 
time: 

"It  may  be  in  the  morning, 

When  the  sun  is  bright  and  strong, 
And  the  dew  is  glittering  sharply 

Over  the  little  lawn ; 
When  the  waves  are  laughing  loudly 

Along  the  shore, 
And  the  little  birds  sing  sweetly 

About  the  door; 
With  the  long  day's  work  before  you. 
You  rise  up  with  the  sun, 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  61 

And  the  neighbours  come  in  to  talk  a  little 

Of  all  that  must  be  done: 
But  remember  that  I  may  be  the  next 

To  come  in  at  the  door, 
To  call  you  from  your  busy  work 

For  evermore. 
As  you  work,  your  heart  must  watch, 
For  the  door  is  on  the  latch 

In  your  room, 
And  it  may  be  in  the  morning 

I  will  come." 

He  read  on  with  a  strange,  breathless  interest  the 
next  two  pages  of  poem,  then,  with  a  sudden  sense  of 
hush  upon  him,  he  went  carefully  over  the  concluding 
lines : 

"So  I  am  watching  quietly 

Every  day. 
Whenever  the  sun  shines  brightly, 

I  rise  and  say, 
'Surely  it  is  the  shining  of  His  face !" 
And  look  unto  the  gates  of  His  high  place 

Beyond  the  sea. 
For  I  know  He  is  coming  shortly 

To  summon  me. 
And  when  a  shadow  falls  across  the  window 

Of  my  room, 
Where  I  am  working  my  appointed  task, 
I  lift  my  head  to  watch  the  door,  and  ask 

If  He  is  come; 
And  the  angel  answers  sweetly 

In  my  home : 
'Only  a  few  more  shadows, 

And  He  will  come.'" 

The  face  of  Tom  Hammond,  as  he  laid  down  the  book, 
was  full  of  a  strange,  new  perplexity.  "Strange,  very!" 
he  muttered.  "Do  you  know  Joyce,  Mr.  Simpson  ?"  Ham- 
mond asked  a  reporter.  "He  used  to  be  on  the  staff 
of  the " 

"  'Daily  Tatler,'  "  cried  the  man.  "Knew  him  well 
years  ago,  sir.     Old  school-fellows,  in  fact.     Got  wrong 


62                                      IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 
with  the  drink,  sir.     Gone  to  the  dogs,  and " 


"Have  you  seen  or  heard  anything  of  him  this  last 
month,  Mr.  Simpson?" 

"Yes,  sir.  He's  grown  worse  than  ever.  Magistrate  at 
Bow  Street,  committing  him  for  three  days,  said  fellow 
ought  to  be  put  in  Broadmoor.  Pity  his  poor  wife,  sir. 
Perfect  lady,  sir." 

"You  know  Mrs.  Joyce,  then?"     Hammond  queried. 

The  reporter  sighed,  "Rather,  sir !  Wished  a  thou- 
sand times  I  could  have  had  her  for  a  wife,  and  he'd 
had  mine.  I  should  have  had  a  happier  life.  And 
he " 

The  man  laughed  grimly.  "Well,  he'd  have  had  a 
tartar !" 

Hammond  had  heard  something  about  the  shrewish 
wife  Simpson  had  unfortunately  married.  But  he  had 
learned  all  he  wanted  to  know,  so  dismissed  the  poor, 
ill-married  fellow. 

'T  think  I  must  call  upon  Mrs.  Joyce,  and  learn  more 
about  this  strange  matter  of  the  coming  Christ,"  he  told 
himself. 

He  copied  the  address  from  the  head  of  the  letter 
into  his  pocket-book,  then  turned  to  the  last  letter  of 
his  mail. 

This  proved  to  be  a  comparatively  short  letter,  but, 
to  Hammond,  a  deeply-interesting  one.  It  was  signed 
"Abraham  Cohen,"  and  the  writer  explained  that  he 
was  a  Jew,  who  had  taken  the  "Courier"  from  the  very 
first  number,  and  had  not  only  become  profoundly  inter- 
ested in  the  recent  utterances  of  the  editor  in  the 
"Prophet's  Chamber"  column,  but  he  had,  for  some  days, 
been  impressed  with  the  desire  to  write  to  the  "Prophet." 

"Will  you  pardon  me,  sir,"  the  letter  went  on,  "if  I 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  63 

say  that  it  would  be  to  your  immense  advantage,  now 
that  your  mind  has  become  aroused  to  the  facts  and 
history  of  our  race,  if  you  would  get  in  touch  with 
some  really  well-read,  intelligent  Jew  who  knows  our 
people  well,  knows  their  history,  past,  present,  and  future, 
as  far  as  the  latter  can  be  known  from  our  Scriptures 
and  sacred  books.  Should  you  care  to  fall  in  with  my 
suggestion,  I  should  be  pleased  to  supply  you  with  the 
names  and  addresses  of  several  good  and  clever  men  of 
our  people. 

"Yours  obediently, 

"Abraham  Cohen." 

As  he  folded  the  letter  slowly,  Hammond  told  him- 
self that  there  was  something  in  the  letter  that  drew 
him  towards  the  writer. 

"I  will  hunt  him  up,  for  it  is  evident  that  he  is  as 
enthusiastic  over  his  people's  history  as  he  is  intelligent. 
I  will  see  what  to-morrow  brings.     Now  to  work." 

He  put  Cohen's  letter  in  his  pocket,  and  turned  to 
the  hundred  and  one  editorial  claims  upon  his  time. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
REVERIE. 

IlV  spite  of  the  time  of  the  year,  the  evening  was 
almost  as  warm  as  one  in  June.  Madge  Finisterre 
was  on  one  of  the  wide  hotel  balconies  overlooking  the 
Embankment.  She  had  dined  with  her  cousin,  George 
Carlyon,  but  instead  of  going  out  of  town  that  evening 
with  him — he  had  pressed  her  strongly  to  go, — she  had 
elected  to  spend  a  quiet  evening  alone. 

London's  roar,  subdued  a  little,  it  is  true,  at  that 
hour,  rose  all  around  her  where  she  sat.  The  cup  of 
coffee  she  had  brought  to  her,  cooled  where  it  stood 
upon  the  little  table  at  her  elbow.     She  had  forgotten  it. 

Her  mind  was  engrossed  with  the  memory  of  the 
latter  part — the  interrupted  part — of  that  interview  with 
Tom  Hammond  that  afternoon. 

"What  would  have  happened  if  George  Carlyon  had 
not  turned  up  at  that  moment?"  she  mused, — "if  we 
had  been  left  alone  and  undisturbed  another  five 
minutes  ?" 

Her  cheeks  burned  as  she  whispered  softly  to  herself : 

"I  believe  Tom  Hammond  would  have  proposed  to 
me.     If  he  had,  what  should  I  have  replied?" 

A  far-away  look  crept  into  her  eyes.  She  was  back 
again  in  the  little  town  where  she  had  been  "reared," 
as  she  herself  would  have  said.  We  have  many  villages 
in  England  larger,  more  populous,  more  busy,  than  her 
"town,"  but,  then,  the  people  of  her  land  talk  "big." 

Before  her  mind's  eye  there  rose  the  picture  of  her 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  65 

father's  store,  a  huge,  rambhng  concern  built  of  wood, 
with  a  frontage  of  a  hundred  feet,  and  a  colonnade  of 
turned  wooden  pillars  that  supported  a  verandah  that 
ran  the  whole  length. 

Every  item  of  the  interior  of  the  store  came  vividly 
before  her  mind,  the  very  odour  of  the  place — a  curious 
blend  of  groceries,  drapery,  rope,  oils  and  colours, 
tobacco, — seemed  suddenly  to  fill  her  nostrils.  And 
in  that  instant,  though  she  scarcely  realized  it,  the  first 
real  touch  of  nostalgia  came  to  her. 

She  saw  the  postal  section  of  the  store  littered  with 
men,  all  smoking,  most  of  them  yarning.  One  after 
another  dropped  in,  and,  with  a  ''Howdy,  all?"  dropped 
upon  a  coil  of  white  cotton  rope,  or  lounged  against  a 
counter  or  cask.  ''Dollars"  and  "cents"  floated  in  speech 
all  around,  while  the  men  waited  for  the  mail.  It  was 
late  that  night. 

A  week  before  she  had  sailed  for  England,  she  had 
gone  down  to  the  store,  as  she  had  gone  every  evening 
about  mail-time,  and,  entering  at  the  end  nearest  her 
home,  she  had  come  upon  the  scene  that  had  now  so 
suddenly  risen  before  her  mind's  eye.  She  had  traversed 
all  the  narrow  alley-way  between  the  stored-up  supplies, 
from  which  the  various  departments  were  stocked, 
singing  as  she  went: 

"The  world  is  circumbendibus, 

We're  all  going  round  ; 
We  have  a  try  to  fly  the  sky, 

But  still  we're  on  the  ground. 
We  every  one  go  round  the  sun, 

We're  moving  night  and  day ; 
And  milkmen  all  go  round  the  run 

Upon  their  Milky  Way." 


66  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

''We're   all   circumbendibus, 

Wherever  we  may  be. 
We're  all  circumbendibus, 

On  land  or  on  sea. 
Rich  or  poor  or  middling. 

Wherever  we  are  found, 
We're  all  circumbendibus. 

We're  all  going  round." 

She  had  punctuated  the  chorus  with  a  series  of  jerked 
steps,  her  high  heels  striking  the  wooden  floor  in  a  kind 
of  Castanet  accompaniment.  Every  waiting  man  had 
risen  to  his  feet  as  she  came  upon  them  in  that  post-office 
section,  and  she  had  answered  their  rising  with  a  military 
salute. 

In  the  great  mirror  that  ran  from  floor  to  ceiHng  of 
the  store,  she  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  herself.  She 
recalled,  even  now,  exactly  what  she  was  wearing  that 
evening — a  white  muslin  frock,  a  very  wide  sash  of  rich 
silk — crushed  strawberry  colour — about  her  waist,  the 
long  ends  of  the  sash  floating  behind  her  almost  to  the 
high  heels  of  her  dainty  bronze  shoes.  A  knot  of  the 
same-hued  ribbon,  narrow,  of  course,  with  streamers 
flying,  was  fastened  at  her  left  shoulder.  Her  wide-brim- 
med hat  was  trimmed  with  the  same  colour.  She  had 
known  that  she  made  a  handsome  picture  before  she  read 
the  light  of  admiration  in  the  eyes  of  the  post-office 
loungers. 

"Have  you  heard  the  news,  boys?"  she  asked. 

"Aw,  guess  we  hev,  Miss  Madge." 

It  was  Ulysses  Fletcher  who  had  acted  as  spokesman. 

In  some  surprise,  and  not  altogether  pleased,  she  had 
wheeled  sharply  round  to  the  lantern-jawed  Ulysses 
and  asked, 

"How  did  you  hear  the  news,  Ulysses?     Dad  didn't 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  67 

tell  you,  I'm  sure,  for  he  promised  me  I  should  tell  you 
all  myself." 

"Met  a  coon  down  to  the  depot,  an'  I  guess  he  wur 
chuck  full  o'  it,  an'  'e  ups  an'  tells  me." 

"A  coon  told  you?"  she  had  cried  in  ever-increasing 
amazement. 

''Sartin,  Miss  Madge !" 

"A  coon!"  she  had  repeated.  "A  coon — told  you — 
down  at  the  depot — that — I  was — going — to  Europe  next 
week !" 

Every  eye  had  stared  in  wondering  astonishment  at 
Madge  Finisterre  at  her  announcement  that  she  was 
going  to  Europe.  Then  there  was  a  general  laugh,  and 
one  of  the  smartest  of  the  "boys"  had  cried: — 

"I  low  there's  been  a  mistake  some,  Miss  Madge,  an' 
that,  too,  all  roun'.  Fact  is,  we've  been  runnin'  two 
separate  tickets  over  this  news  business,  an'  thought  it 
wur  one  an'  the  same.  We  wur  talkin'  'bout  Seth 
Hammond's  herd  o'  hogs  as  wur  cut  up  by  the  Pough- 
keepsie  express  'smarnin'." 

She  had  joined  in  the  laugh,  and  then  in  reply  to 
the  question  of  another  of  the  men,  as  to  whether  it 
was  really  true  that  she  was  going  to  "Urop,"  she  had 
replied  in  the  affirmative,  adding,  by  way  of  explanation : 

"I  guess  you  all  know  that  my  momma  is  British,  that 
she  belonged  to  what  the  Britishers  call,  'the  Quality. 
She  was  the  youngest  sister  of  Sir  Archibald  Carlyon, 
was  travelling  over  here,  out  west,  when  she  was  about 
my  age,  got  fixed  up  in  an  awkward  shop  by  half-breeds, 
and  was  rescued  by  my  dear  old  poppa.  Fact,  that's 
how  he  came  to  be  my  poppa,  for  she  married  him. 
Spite  of  her  high  connections  in  England,  she  was  very 
poor,  and  she  loved  dad.     If  dear  momma  could  only 


68  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

face  the  water  journey,  she'd  go  over  with  me." 

"Air  you  goin'  alone,  Miss?"  one  of  the  boys  had 
asked. 

Then — how  well  she  remembered  it  to-night! — she 
had  given  the  answer,  part  of  which  she  had  given  to 
George  Carlyon  that  very  day: 

"Oh,  I'll  git  all  right,  boys,  you  can  bet  on  that, 
without  anyone  dandying  around  me.  For  I  guess  if 
there's  one  thing  the  Britishers  are  learning  about  our 
women,  it's  this — that  if  a  United  States  gel's  got  dollars 
under  her  boots  to  w^heel  around  on  it  ain't  much  fuss 
for  her  to  skate  through  their  old  country,  nor  yet 
through  Europe,  come  to  that,  even  if  she  has  no  more 
language  under  her  tongue  than  good,  plain,  Duchess 
county  American." 

With  a  merry  smile,  for  which  there  had  been  no 
scrambling,  since  it  was  shed  upon  them  all,  she  had 
passed  on  to  where  she  knew  she  would  find  her  father, 
ringing  her  boot-heels,  castanet  fashion,  as  she  sang 
lightly : 

"Mary's  gone  wid  a  coon, 
Mary's  gone  wid  a  coon; 
Dere's  heaps  o'  trubble  on  de  ole  man's  min' 
Since  Mary  flit  wid  de  coon." 

How  vividly  it  all  came  up  before  her  in  this  hour 
of  quiet  reverie !  But  her  mind  flitted  swiftly  to  another 
scene,  one  that  had  been  hanging  in  the  background  of 
all  her  thought  ever  since  (thinking  of  Tom  Hammond 
and  the  interrupted  conversation,)  she  had  been  reminded 
of  home  and  its  happenings. 

There  had  been  a  Donation  Party  for  their  pastor 
(Episcopalian  Methodist)  at  the  house  of  one  of  the 
members  on  the  very  night  of  the  store  scene.     Madge 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  69 

had  gone,  of  course.  Balhang  was  wont  to  say  that 
a  Donation  Party  simply  could  not  be  run  without  her. 

Sitting  on  that  Embankment  hotel  balcony,  with  eyes 
fixed  on  the  lamps,  the  river,  the  bridge,  the  traffic  yet 
seeing  nothing  of  it  all,  that  Donation  Party  all  came 
back  to  her.  Things  had  been  a  bit  stiff  and  formal  at 
first,  as  they  often  are  at  such  gatherings. 

The  adults  sat  around  and  talked  on  current  topics 
— how  much  turkeys  would  fetch  for  Thanksgiving, 
whether  it  would  pay  best  to  sell  them  plucked  or 
unplucked,  what  would  folks  do  for  cranberries  for 
Thanksgiving,  since  the  cranberry  crop  had  failed  that 
year — ''An'  turkey  wi'out  cranberry  ain't  wuth  a  twist 
o'  the  tongue." 

''An'  squash,"  suggested  one  old  man.  "What's  turkey 
wi'out  squash?  I'd  most  so  soon  hev  only  Boston" 
(i.  e.,  pork  and  beans)  "fur  dinner  as  ter  go  wi'out 
squash  wi'  turkey." 

The  young  folk  had  been  "moping  around"  like  drag- 
gled chickens  on  a  wet  day  when  the  barn-door  is  shut. 
Then,  at  this  juncture,  Madge  had  burst  upon  the  scene. 
She  swam  into  the  largest  room,  swirling  round  and 
round  with  a  kind  of  waltz  movement,  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  her  own  gay  voice  as  she  sang: 


"I  said,  *My  dear,  I'm  glad !' 
Said  she,  Tm  glad  you're  glad!' 
Said  I,  'I'm  glad  you're  glad  I'm  glad, 
It  is  so  very,  very  nice ; 
It  makes  it  seem  worth  twice  the  price, 
So  glad  you're  glad  I'm  glad !' " 

With   a   gay   laugh    she   had   tunied    to  the   hostess, 
saying; 


70  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

"Things  want  hustling  a  bit  here,  Miss  JuHe.  Every- 
one is  as  glum  as  a  whip-poor-will  that  is  fixed  up  with 
the  grippe." 

In  the  quiet  of  that  corner  of  the  hotel  balcony  she 
smiled  at  these  remembrances  of  her  nonsense  that  night. 
She  had  started  the  young  people  playing  their  favourite 
games  of  "Whisper,"  "Amsterdam,"  etc.,  in  two  or  three 
of  the  smaller  rooms;  then  had  raced  away  again  to  the 
room  where  the  adults  were  sitting  squarely  against  the 
wall,  as  grim  as  "brazen  images."  Dropping  on  to  the 
piano  stool,  she  struck  a  few  soft,  tender  notes,  sug- 
gestive of  some  very  gracious  hymn,  then  suddenly  broke 
into  song : 

"Oh,  dat's  so!     Oh.  dat's  so! 
Dar  is  nuffing  'neath  de  moon  dat'll  satisfy  dis  coon. 

Like  a  K — I — double  S,  kiss, 
Since  dat  Cupid,  wid  his  dart,  made  a  keyhole  in  my  heart 
For  dat  M — I — double  S,  miss." 

Behind  a  corner  of  the  curtain  the  young  pastor  had 
watched  and  listened.  He  had  thought  his  presence 
unknown  to  her.     He  was  mistaken. 

For  three-quarters  of  an  hour  she  had  been  the  life 
of  that  room.  Then,  suddenly,  as  she  was  singing  at 
the  piano,  the  room  grew  very  quiet.  She  was  aroused 
by  a  voice  just  behind  her  ear,  saying : 

"Miss  Finisterre,  are  you  going  to  supper  with  this 
first  batch,  or  will  you  wait  the  next  turn?" 

Turning,  she  found  herself  face  to  face  with  the 
young  pastor,  the  room  being  otherwise  empty.  His 
gaze  was  very  warm,  very  ardent.  She  had  flushed 
under  the  power  of  that  gaze. 

She  had  railed  him  on  his  extra  seriousness,  and  he 
had  answered, 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  71 

''Don't,  Madge!  you  must  know  why  I  am  grave  and 
sad,  to-night."     (He  had  never  called  her  Madge  before.) 

"No,  I  don't,"  she  had  repHed. 

"In  less  than  a  week,"  he  went  on,  "so  I  have  heard 
to-night,  you  leave  Balhang.  You  are  going  to  Europe, 
and  will  be  away  long  months,  perhaps  a  year." 

She  had  gazed  at  him  in  honest  wonder,  not  fully 
grasping  his  meaning. 

"Why,"  she  asked,  "should  that  make  you  sad?" 

He  had  leaned  closer  towards  her.  There  was  no  one 
to  see  them.  The  heavy  door-curtain  had  slipped  from 
its  hook,  and  shut  them  in.  Where  her  hand  rested  on 
the  rounded,  polished  arm  of  the  piano,  his  larger  hand 
had  moved,  and  her  white  fingers  were  clasped  in  his 
larger  ones.  His  eyes  had  sought  hers,  and,  under  the 
hypnotic  power  of  the  strong  love  in  his  eyes,  she  had 
been  compelled  to  meet  his  gaze. 

"I  thought,  dear,  you  must  have  seen  how,  for  a  long 
time,  I  had  learned  to  love  you,  Madge." 

His  clasp  on  her  fingers  had  tightened.  He  had  leaned 
nearer  to  her  still.  No  man's  face,  save  her  father's 
had  ever  been  so  close  to  hers  before,  and  the  contact 
strangely  affected  her.  She  felt  the  warmth  of  his 
breath,  the  heat  of  his  clean,  wholesome  flesh;  even  the 
scent  of  the  soap  he  had  used — or  was  is  some  perfume 
in  his  clothing? — filled  all  her  sense  of  smell. 

The  perfume  was  violet,  and  she  remembered  tonight 
how,  for  many  a  day,  she  could  not  smell  violets  without 
recalling  that  moment,  and  seeing  again  the  strong,  earn- 
est, eager  face,  with  the  fire  of  a  mighty  love  burning  in 
the  eyes. 

To-night  she  heard  again  the  yearning,  pleading  voice 


72  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

as  he  had  cried:  "Madge,  IMadge,  my  darhng!  Can 
you  ever  guess  how  great  is  my  love  for  you?  Tell 
me,  dear,  do  you,  can  you,  love  me  in  return?  Will 
you  be  my  wife?  Will  you  come  into  all  my  life  to 
bless  it?  And  let  me  be  wholly  yours  to  help,  to  bless, 
to  strengthen,  to  love,  to  cherish  you  ?    Tell  me,  darling !" 

And  she  had  cried,  almost  piteously: 

*T  don't  know  how  to  answer  you,  pastor.  It  is  all 
so  sudden.  I  knew,  of  course,  that  we  were  great  friends, 
and  I  am  sure  I  like  you  very  much,  but — this  proposal ! 
Why,  I  never  dreamed  that  you  cared  for  me  like  that, 
for  how  could  I  be  a  minister's  wife?  I  am  such  a  gay, 
thoughtless,  foolish  little  thing — I " 

There  had  followed  more  tender  pleading,  and  she 
had  finally  said.  'Tf  you  love  me.  Homer,  as  you  say 
you  do,  please  do  not  bother  me  any  more  now.  Wait 
until  I  come  back  from  Europe — then — then " 

"What,  Madge?"  he  had  cried  softly,  eagerly. 

*Tf  I  can  honestly  say  'Yes,'  "  she  had  repHed,  "I  will 
and  I  will  not  even  wait  for  you  to  ask  me  again." 

He  had  bent  over  her.  His  gaze  held  her  fascinated. 
She  thought  he  was  going  to  take  toll  of  her  lips  before 
his  right  was  confirmed.  But  at  that  instant  there  had 
come  a  rush  of  feet,  a  sound  of  many  voices.  The  curtain 
was  flung  aside,  just  as  her  fingers  strayed  over  the 
keys  of  the  instrument,  and  the  pastor  succeeded  in 
regaining  his  old  unseen  nook. 

'T  guess  Miss  JuHe's  waitin'  fur  yer,  Miss  Madge, 
ter  go  ter  yer  supper,"  bawled  an  old  deacon  of  the 
church. 

She  had  swept  the  ivory  keys  with  rollicking  touch, 
and  sang  in  gayest  style: 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  7Z 

"Allow  me  to  say  Ta-ta ! 
I  bid  you  good-day.     Ta-ta! 
I  wish  I  could  stay, 
But  I'm  going  away. 
Allow  me  to  say  Ta-ta !" 

Amid  the  uproarious  laughter  of  everyone  in  the  room, 
she  had  bounded  away  to  supper. 

Except  for  one  moment,  when  she  was  leaving  the 
house  for  home,  and  he  had  helped  her  on  with  her 
cloak,  the  pastor  had  not  spoken  again  directly  to  her 
that  evening.     He  had  managed  then  to  whisper, 

*'God  bless  you,  my  darling!  I  shall  pray  for  you, 
and  live  on  the  hope  I  read  in  your  eyes  to-night." 

It  was  all  this  which  had  risen  so  strangely  before  her 
mind,  as  to-night,  on  that  hotel  balcony,  she  had  begun 
to  ask  herself  how  much  she  really  cared  for  Tom  Ham- 
mond, and  what  answer  she  would  have  given  him  had 
he  proposed  to  her  that  afternoon. 

''I  told  pastor,"  she  murmured,  "that  night,  that  I 
was  not  sure  of  myself.  I  am  no  nearer  being  sure  of 
myself  now  than  I  was  then." 

The  scene  with  Hammond  rose  up  before  her,  and 
she  added :    ''I  am  less  sure,  I  think,  than  ever !" 

She  gazed  fixedly  where  the  double  line  of  lamps 
gleamed  on  the  near-distant  bridge.  For  a  moment  she 
tried  to  compare  the  two  lives — that  of  an  American 
Methodist  pastor's  wife,  with  endless  possibilities  of 
doing  good,  and  that  of  the  wife  of  a  comparatively 
wealthy  newspaper  editor-manager. 

"Should  I  like  to  marry  a  popular  man?"  she  asked 
herself.  'T  read  somewhere  once  that  popular  men- 
like  popular  actors,  make  bad  husbands,  that  they  can- 
not endure  the  tameness  of  an  audience  of  one." 

She  laughed  low,  and  a  little  amusedly,  as  she  added, 


74  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

"Oh,  well,  Tom  Hammond  has  not  asked  me  to  marry 
him.  Perhaps  he  never  will — and — well,  'sufficient  for 
the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.'  Pastor  once  preached  from 
that,  I  remember." 

The  night  had  grown  cooler.  She  shivered  a  little 
as  she  rose  and  passed  into  the  lighted  room  beyond. 

Two  hours  later,  as  she  laid  her  head  upon  the  pillow, 
she  murmured,  *T  don't  see  how  I  could  marry  the 
pastor!  Why,  I  haven't  'got  religion'  yet.  I  am  not 
'converted,'  as  these  Britishers  would  say !" 


CHAPTER  IX. 
A  THREAT. 

TOM  HAMMOND  paused  before  the  house  that 
bore  the  number  at  the  head  of  Mrs.  Joyce's  letter. 
It  was  in  a  mean  street,  and  his  soul  went  out  in  pity 
towards  the  unfortunate  woman,  who,  with  all  her  refine- 
ment, was  compelled  to  live  amid  such  squalid  surround- 
ings. 

''And  heart-starved,  too,"  he  mused,  pityingly.  "Heart- 
starved  for  the  want  of  love,  of  sympathy,  of  the  sense 
of  soul-union  that  makes  life  with  a  married  partner  at 
all  bearable." 

"Yus,  sir;  Mrs.  Joss  lives  yere.  Top  floor,  lef  'and 
side.    Yer  kin  go  hup!" 

A  child  had  opened  the  door  in  response  to  his  knock. 
Following  the  directions  given,  Tom  Hammond  climbed 
the  dirty  stairs.  On  the  top  landing  were  two  doors. 
The  one  on  the  right  was  fast  shut;  that  on  the  left  was 
ajar  a  few  inches.  His  approach  did  not  seem  to  have 
been  heard.  Mrs.  Joyce,  the  only  occupant  of  the  room, 
was  seated  at  a  bare  deal  table,  sewing  briskly. 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  tap  at  the  door,  but 
some  impulse  checked  him  for  a  moment.  He  had 
the  opportunity  to  observe  her  closely,  and  he  did  so. 

She  sat  facing  the  window;  the  light  shone  full  upon 
her.  She  was  dressed  in  a  well-worn  but  well-fitting 
black  gown.  Round  her  throat — how  pure  and  white  the 
skin  was ! — she  wore  a  white  turnover  collar,  like  a 
nurse,  white  cuffs  at  her  wrists  completing  the  nurse  idea. 


1^  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

Her  hair — she  had  loosened  it  earher  because  of  a 
slight  headache — hung  in  clustering  waves  on  her  neck, 
and  was  held  back  behind  her  ears  with  a  comb  on 
either  side.  There  was  a  rare  softness  and  refinement 
in  the  pale  face  that  drooped  over  her  sewing.  Seen  as 
Tom  Hammond  saw  her  then,  Mrs.  Joyce  was  a  really- 
beautiful  woman. 

He  gazed  for  a  few  moments  at  the  picture,  amazed 
at  the  rapidity  of  her  sewing  movements. 

''The  tragedy  of  Tom  Hood's  'Song  of  the  Shirt/  " 
he  muttered,  as  he  watched  the  gleam  of  the  flying 
needle. 

''Oh,  men  with  sisters  dear ! 

Oh.  men  with  mothers  and  wives ! 
It  is  not  Hnen  you're  wearing  out, 
But   human  creature's   lives ! 

Stitch,   stitch,  stitch. 
In  poverty,  hunger,  and  dirt. 
Sewing  at  once,  with  a  double  thread, 
A  shroud  as  well  as  a  shirt." 

Under  the  magnetic  constraint  of  his  fixed  gaze  the 
woman  looked  towards  the  door.  She  recognized  her 
visitor,  and  with  a  little  glad  cry  started  to  her  feet. 
Tom  Hammond  pushed  the  door  open  and  entered  the 
room.     She  sprang  to  meet  him. 

Now  that  he  saw  her,  he  realized  the  expression 
of  her  face  had  changed.  Heaven — all  the  heaven 
of  God's  indwelling  pardon,  love,  peace,  had  come  to 
dwell  with  her.  All  that  she  had  said  in  her  letter  of 
her  new-found  joy,  was  fully  confirmed  by  her  looks. 

"How  good  of  you  to  come  to  see  me,  Mr.  Ham- 
mond !"  she  cried,  as  she  felt  the  clasp  of  his  hand. 

"How  good  of  you  to  write  me  of  your  new-found 
happiness!"     He  smiled  back  into  her  glad,  eager  eyes. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  11 

He  took  the  chair  she  offered,  and  with  a  question 
or  two  sought  to  lead  her  on  to  talk  of  the  subject  about 
which  he  had  come  to  see  her. 

''The  very  title  of  the  subject,"  Hammond  explained, 
"is   perfectly    foreign    to    me." 

'Tt  was  all  so,  so  foreign  to  me,"  she  returned.  Then, 
as  swift  tears  flooded  her  eyes,  she  turned  to  him  wath 
a  little  rapturous  cry,  saying, — 

"And  it  would  all  have  been  foreign  to  me  for  ever, 
but  for  you,  Mr.  Hammond.  I  never,  never  can  forget 
that  but  for  you  my  soul  would  have  been  in  a  suicide's 
hell,  where  hope  and  mercy  could  never  have  reached 
me.  As  long  as  I  shall  live  I  shall  never  forget  the 
awful  rush  of  soul-accusation  that  swept  over  me,  when 
my  body  touched  the  foul  waters  of  that  muddy  river 
that  night.  The  chill  and  shock  of  the  waters  I  did  not 
feel,  but  the  chill  of  eternal  condemnation  for  my  mad- 
ness and  sin  I  did  feel. 

*T  saw  all  my  life  as  in  a  flash.  All  the  gracious 
warnings  and  pleadings  that  ever,  in  my  hearing,  fell 
from  my  sainted  father's  lips,  as  he  besought  men  and 
women  to  be  reconciled  to  God,  seemed  to  swoop  down 
upon  me,  condemning  me  for  my  unbelief  and  sin.  Then 
— then  you  came  to  my  rescue — and " 

Her  tears  were  dropping  thick  and  fast  now. 

"And — my  soul — had  respite  given  in  which  to — to — 
seek  God — because — ^you  saved  my  body." 

Overcome  with  her  emotion,  she  turned  her  head  to 
wipe  away  the  grateful  tears.  When  next  she  faced 
him,  her  voice  was  low  and  tender,  her  eyes  glowed  with 
a  light  that  Tom  Hammond  had  never  seen  in  a  human 
face  before. 

"Now,   if   my   Lord   come,"    she   said   softly,    raptur- 


78  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

ously,  ''whether  at  morning,  at  noontide,  at  midnight, 
or  cock-crowing,  I  shall  be  ready  to  meet  Him  in  the  air. 

"I  used  to  think  that  if  ever  I  was  converted,  I  should 
meet  my  dear  father  and  mother  at  the  last  day,  at  the 
great  final  end  of  all  things. 

"But  now  I  know  that  if  Jesus  came  for  His  people 
to-day,  that  I  should  meet  my  dear  ones  to-day.  For 
when  'the  Lord  Himself  shall  descend  from  heaven  .  .  . 
the  dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  first :  then  we  which  are 
alive  and  remain  shall  be  caught  up  together  with  them 
in  the  clouds,  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air:  and  so  shall 
we  ever  be  with  the  Lord.'  " 

Tom  Hammond  gazed  at  the  speaker  in  wonder.  The 
glory  that  filled  her  face,  the  triumph  and  rapture  that 
rang  in  her  voice,  were  a  strange  revelation  to  him. 

"A  starvation  wage  for  making  slop-shirts,"  he  mused, 
"yet  more  than  triumphing  over  every  discomfort  of 
poverty  by  the  force  of  the  divine  hope  that  dominates 
her!     What  is  this  hope?" 

"Tell  me  of  this  wondrous  thing,  Mrs.  Joyce,"  he 
said,  aloud,  "that  can  transmute  your  poverty  and  suf- 
fering to  triumph  and  rapture,  and  your  comfortless 
garret  to  a  heaven  on  earth." 

"Before  I  begin,"  she  replied,  "tell  me,  Mr.  Ham- 
mond, have  ever  you  seen  this?" 

From  the  window-shelf  she  reached  a  tiny  envelope 
booklet. 

"  'Long  Odds' !"  he  said,  reading  the  boldly-printed 
title  of  the  book.  "No;  I  have  never  seen  this.  It 
sounds  sporting,  rather." 

"Take  it,  Mr.  Hammond,"  she  went  on ;  "if  it  does 
nothing  else,  it  will  awaken  your  interest  in  this  wonder- 
ful subject." 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  79 

He  slipped  the  book  into  his  breast-pocket.  She 
opened  her  mouth  to  speak  again,  when  a  sound  from 
outside  caught  her  ear.  She  started  to  her  feet;  her 
face  turned  deadly  pale.  The  next  instant  the  door 
was  flung  noisily  open,  and  her  husband  entered  the 
room. 

The  blear-eyed,  drunken  scoundrel  glared  at  the  two 
seated  figures,  then  laughed  evilly  as  he  cried, — 

"Turned  religious?  Oho!  oho!  Like  all  the  rest  of 
your  religious  people,  make  a  mantle — a  regular  down- 
to-your-feet  ulster — of  your  religion  to  cover  every 
blackness  and  filthiness  of  life." 

"Silence,  you  foul-mouthed  blackguard!" 

Tom  Hammond's  lips  were  white  with  the  indigna- 
tion that  filled  him,  as  he  flung  his  command  to  the 
man. 

"Silence  yourself,  Tom  Hammond !"  bellowed  the 
drunken  scoundrel.  "I  know  you,"  he  went  on.  "You're 
a  big  bug  now !  Think  no  end  of  yourself,  and  of 
your  messing  paper.  Perhaps  you'll  say  you  came  to 
invite  me  to  join  your  staff,  now  that  I've  caught  you 
here?" 

His  sneering  tone  changed  to  one  of  bitterest  hate,  as 
he  turned  to  the  white,  trembling  woman. 

"You're  a  beauty,  ain't  you?  Profess  to  turn  saint; 
then,  when  you  think  I'm  clear  away,  you  receive  visits 
from  fine  gentlemen !    Gentlemen  ?    bah !    they're " 

"Silence,  you  drunken,  foul-mouthed  beast!'*  again 
interrupted  Tom  Hammond. 

There  was  something  amazing  in  the  command  that 
rang  in  the  indignant  tones  of  his  voice. 

"Unless,"  he  went  on,  "you  want  to  find  yourself  in 
the  grip  of  the  law." 


80  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

For  a  moment  or  two  Joyce  was  utterly  cowed !  then 
the  devil  in  him  reared  its  head  again,  and  he  hissed, 

"You  clear  out  of  here,  and  remember  this;  if  I 
have  to  keep  sober  for  a  year  to  do  it,  I'll  ruin  you 
Tom  Hammond,  I  wall !" 

He  laughed  with  an  almost  demoniacal  glee,  as  he 
went  on : 

'T  can  write  a  par  yet,  you  know.  I'll  dip  my  pen  in 
the  acid  of  hate — hate,  the  hate  of  devils,  my  beauty — 
and  then  get  Fletcher  to  put  them  into  his  paper.  He's 
not  in  love  with  the  'Courier,'  or  wnth  Tom  Hammond, 
the  Editor." 

"You  scurrilous  wretch !"  It  was  all  that  Hammond 
deigned  to  reply. 

"Good  day,  Mrs.  Joyce!"  he  bowed  to  the  white-faced 
woman. 

For  her  sake  he  did  not  ofiPer  to  shake  hands,  but 
moved  away  down  the  stairs. 

He  caught  a  hansom  a  few  moments  after  leaving  the 
mean  street.  He  had  purposed,  when  he  started  out 
that  morning,  to  hunt  up  his  other  correspondent,  the 
Jew,  Abraham  Cohen.  But  after  the  scene  he  had  just 
witnessed,  he  felt  quite  unwilling  to  interview  a  stranger. 

"I  wish,"  he  mused,  as  he  sat  back  in  the  hansom,  "I 
had  not  gone  near  that  poor  soul.  I  am  afraid  my  visit 
may  make  it  awkward  for  her." 

His  eyes  darkened  as  he  added:  "And  even  for 
myself.  It  will  be  very  awkward  if  that  drunken  brute 
puts  his  threat  into  execution — and  he  zi'ill,  I  believe. 
Innuendo  is  a  glass  stiletto,  which,  driven  into  the  victim's 
character,  into  his  heart  and  then  snapped  off  from  the 
hilt,  leaves  no  clue  to  the  striker  of  the  blow.  And  a 
demon  like  that  Joyce,  playing  into  the  hands  of  a  cur 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  81 

like  Fletcher,  may  slay  a  fellow  by  a  printed  innuendo, 
and  yet  the  pair  may  easily  keep  outside  the  reach  of 
the  law  of  libel." 

For  the  first  time  since  the  floating  of  the  "Courier," 
his  spirits  became  clouded. 

''Then,  too,"  he  muttered,  "there  is  this  sudden 
breakdown  of  Marsden,  and,  for  the  Hfe  of  me,  I  don't 
know  where  to  look  for  a  fellow,  whom  I  could  secure 
at  short  notice,  who  is  at  all  fit  for  the  'Courier's' 
second/' 

His  face  had  grown  moody.  His  eyes  were  full  of  an 
unwonted  depression. 

"If  only,"  he  went  on,  "Bastin  had  been  in  England, 
and  were  to  be  got "  He  sighed.  There  was  per- 
plexity in  the  sigh. 

"Where  on  earth  can  Ralph  be  all  these  years?"  he 
muttered. 

He  glanced  out  of  the  cab  to  ascertain  his  own  where- 
abouts.   In  two  minutes  more  he  would  be  at  the  office. 


CHAPTER  X. 
IN  THE  NICK  OF  TIME. 

AS  Tom  Hammond's  cab  drew  up  at  the  office, 
another  hansom  drew  up  a  yard  ahead  of  his. 
The  occupant  ahghted  at  the  same  instant  as  did  Ham- 
mond, and  glanced  in  his  direction.  Both  men  leaped  for- 
ward, their  hands  were  clasped  in  a  grip  that  told  of  a 
very  warm  friendship.  Like  simultaneous  pistol  shots 
there  leaped  from  their  separate  lips, — 

"Tom  Hammond!" 

"Ralph  Bastin?" 

The  friends  presently  passed  into  the  great  building, 
arm  linked  in  arm,  laughing  and  talking  like  holiday 
school-boys. 

"Not  three  minutes  ago,  as  I  drove  along  in  my  cab, 
I  was  saying,  'Oh !  if  only  I  could  lay  my  hand  on 
Ralph !" 

They  were  seated  by  this  time  in  Tom  Hammond's 
room. 

"Why  ?  What  did  you  want,  Tom — anything  special  ?" 
the  bronzed,  travelled  Bastin  asked. 

"Rather,  Ralph!  My  second,  poor  Frank  Marsden, 
has  broken  down  suddenly;  it's  serious,  may  even  prove 
fatal,  the  doctors  say.  Anyway,  he  won't  be  fit  (if  he 
recovers  at  all)  for  a  year  or  more." 

He  leaned  eagerly  towards  his  friend  as  he  spoke, 
and  asked, 

"Are  you  open  to  lay  hold  of  the  post?" 

"Yes." 

"When?" 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  83 

"To-morrow,  if  you  like!" 

"Good  r 

Hammond  stretched  his  hand  out.  Bastin  grasped  it. 
Then  they  talked  over  terms,  duties,  etc. 

"But  you,  man?"  said  Hammond,  when  the  last  bit 
of  shop  had  been  talked.  "Where  have  you  been  ?  What 
have  you  been  doing?" 

"Busy  for  an  hour,  Tom?"  Bastin  asked,  by  way  of 
reply. 

"No!" 

"Come  round  to  my  diggings,  then;  not  far — Blooms- 
bury.  We  can  talk  as  we  go.  I  shall  have  time  to  give 
you  a  skeleton  of  my  adventures,  to  be  filled  in  later. 
Then,  when  we  get  to  my  hang-out,  I  can  tell  you, 
when  you  have  seen  her,  the  story  of  my  chief  adventure, 
for  it  concerns  her." 

Hammond  flashed  a  quick,  wondering  glance  at  his 
friend. 

"//er/"  he  said;  "are  you  married,  then?" 

"No,"  laughed  Bastin,  "but  I've  adopted  a  child.  But 
come  on,  man !" 

The  pair  left  the  office.  In  the  cab,  talking  ver^ 
rapidly,  Bastin  gave  the  skeleton  sketch  of  his  wander- 
ings, but  saying  no  word  of  the  promised  great  adventure. 

Tom  Hammond  never  forgot  the  first  sight  of  his 
friend's  adopted  child.  There  was  a  low  grate  in  the 
room,  a  blazing  fire  of  leaping,  flaming  coals  in  the 
grate.  Curled  up  in  a  deep  saddle-bag  arm-chair  was  the 
loveliest  girl-child  Hammond  had  ever  seen. 

She  must  have  been  half  asleep,  or  in  a  deep  reverie, 
but  as  the  two  men  advanced  into  the  room  she  sprang 
from  the  chair,  and,  with  eyes  gleaming  with  delight, 
bounded   to   meet    Bastin.     Wreathing   her   arms   about 


84  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

his  neck,  she  crooned  softly  over  him  some  tongue  of 
her  own. 

She  was  loveliness  incarnated.  Her  eyes,  black  as 
sloes,  were  big,  round,  and  wide  in  their  staring  wonder 
at  Hammond's  appearance.  Her  hair  was  a  mass  of 
short  curls.  She  was  dark  of  skin  as  some  Spanish 
beauty. 

Her  costume  lent  extra  charm  to  her  appearance;  for 
she  wore  a  long,  Grecian-like  robe  of  some  light,  dia- 
phanous ivory-cream  fabric,  engirdled  at  the  waist  with 
a  belt  composed  of  some  sort  of  glistening  peacock-green 
shells,  buckled  with  frosted  silver.  The  simple  but 
exquisite  garment  had  only  short  shoulder-sleeves,  and 
was  cut  low  round  the  throat  and  neck,  and  finished  there 
— as  were  the  edges  of  the  shoulder-sleeves — with  a  two- 
inch  wide  band  of  sheeny  silk  of  the  same  colour  as  the 
shells  of  her  belt.  The  opening  at  the  neck  of  the  robe 
was  fastened  with  a  brooch  of  frosted  silver  of  the  same 
pattern,  only  smaller,  as  the  buckle  of  the  belt. 

From  beneath  the  silk-bound  hem  of  her  robe  there 
peeped  bronze  slippers,  encasing  the  dantiest  little  crim- 
soned-stockinged feet  ever  used  for  pedalling  this  rough 
old  earth's  crust. 

Bastin  introduced  the  child.  She  gave  Tom  her  hand, 
and  lifted  her  wondrous  eyes  to  his,  answering  his  ques- 
tion as  to  her  health  in  the  prettiest  of  broken  English 
he  had  ever  heard. 

A  moment  or  two  later  the  three  friends  were  seated 
— Tom  and  Bastin  in  armchairs  opposite  each  other,  the 
child  (Viola,  Bastin  had  christened  her)  on  a  low  stool 
between  Bastin's  knees. 

''Shall  we  use  the  old  lingo — French?"  Bastin  asked 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  85 

the  question  in  the  Bohemian  Parisian  they  had  been 
wont  to  use  together  years  before. 

"As  you  please,  Ralph,"  Hammond  replied. 

"I  have  told  you  hurriedly  something  of  where  I  have 
been,"   Bastin  began.     **But   I  have   reserved  my  great 

story  until  I  could  tell  it  to  you  here "     He  glanced 

down  at  the  child  at  his  feet.  *'I  heard,"  he  went  on, 
"when  at  La  Caribe — as  everyone  hears  who  stays  long 
in  the  place — that  each  year,  in  spite  of  the  laws  of 
the  whites,  who  are  in  power,  a  child  is  sacrificed  to 
the  Carib  deities,  and  I  longed  to  know  if  it  were  true. 

"During  my  first  few  week's  sojourn  on  the  little 
island  of  Utilla,  I  was  able  to  render  one  of  the  old 
priests  a  service,  which  somehow  became  so  exagger- 
ated in  his  eyes  that  there  was  almost  literally  nothing 
that  he  would  not  do  for  me,  and  eventually  he  yielded 
to  my  entreaties  to  give  me  a  chance  to  see  for  myself 
the  yearly  sacrifice,  which  was  due  in  a  month's  time. 

"During  that  month  of  waiting  I  made  many  sketches 
of  this  wonderful  neighbourhood,  and  became  acquainted 
with  this  little  Carib  maiden,  painting  her  in  three  or 
four  different  ways.  The  child  became  intensely  attached 
to  me,  and  I  to  her,  and  we  were  always  together  in  the 
daytime. 

"As  the  time  drew  near  for  the  sacrifice  I  noticed 
that  the  little  one  grew  very  elated,  and  there  was  a 
new  flash  in  her  eyes,  a  kind  of  rapturous  pride.  I 
asked  her  no  question  as  to  this  change,  putting  it  down 
as  girlish  pride  in  being  painted  by  the  'white  prince,' 
as  she  insisted  on  calling  me. 

"I  need  not  trouble  you,  my  dear  fellow,  with  unnec- 
essary details  of  how  and  where  the  old  priest  led  me 
on   the   eventful   night,   which   was   a   black   as   Erebus, 


86  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

but  come  to  the  point  where  the  real  interest  begins. 

"It  was  midnight  when  at  last  I  had  been  smuggled 
into  that  mysterious  cave,  which,  if  only  a  tithe  of  what 
is  reported  be  half  true,  has  been  damned  by  some 
of  the  awfullest  deeds  ever  perpetrated.  My  priest- 
guide  had  made  me  swear,  before  starting,  that  whatever 
I  saw  I  would  make  no  sign,  utter  no  sound,  telling  me 
that  if  I  did,  and  we  were  discovered,  we  should  both 
be  murdered  there  and  then. 

'*We  had  hardly  hidden  ourselves  before  the  whole 
centre  of  the  cave  became  illuminated  with  a  mauve- 
coloured  flame  that  burned  up  from  a  flat  brass  brazier, 
and  seemed  like  the  coloured  fires  used  in  pantomime 
effects  on  the  English  stage.  By  this  wonderful  light 
I  saw  a  hundred  and  fifty  or  more  Carib  men  and 
women  file  silently  into  the  cave,  and  take  up  their  posi- 
tions in  orderly  rows  all  round  the  place.  When  they 
had  all  mustered,  a  sharp  note  was  struck  upon  the 
carimba,  a  curious  one-stringed  instrument,  and  the 
circles  of  silent  savages,  dropped  into  squatting  position 
on  their  heels.  Then  the  weirdest  of  all  weird  music 
began,  the  instruments  being  a  drum,  a  flute,  and  the 
carimba. 

"But  my  whole  attention  became  absorbed  by  the 
grouping  in  the  centre  of  the  room — the  fire-dish  had 
been  shifted  to  one  side,  and  I  saw  a  hideous  statue, 
squatted  on  a  rudely-constructed,  massive  table,  the 
carved  hands  gripping  a  bowl  that  rested  on  the  stone 
knees  of  the  image.  The  head  of  the  hideous  god  was 
encircled  with  a  very  curious  band,  that  looked,  from 
where  I  stood,  like  bead  and  grass  and  feather  work. 
The  face — cheeks  and  forehead — was  scored  with  black, 
green  and  red  paint,  the  symbolic  colours  of  that  won- 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  87 

drous  race  that  once  filled  all  Central  America. 

'*In  the  back  part  of  the  wide,  saucer-like  edge  of 
the  bowl  which  rested  on  the  knees  of  the  statue,  there 
burned  a  light-blue  flame,  and  whether  it  was  from 
this  fire,  or  from  the  larger  one  that  burned  in  the  wide, 
shallow  brazier  on  the  floor,  I  cannot  positively  say, 
but  a  lovely  fragrance  was  diffused  from  one  or  the 
other. 

''Before  this  strange  altar  stood  three  very  old  priests, 
while  seven  women  (sukias,)  as  grizzled  as  the  men, 
stood  at  stated  intervals  about  the  altar.  One  of  these 
hideous  hags  had  a  dove  in  her  hand;  another  held  a 
young  kid  clasped  between  her  strong  brown  feet ;  a 
third  held  the  sacrificial  knife,  a  murderous-looking  thing, 
made  of  volcano  glass,  short  in  blade,  and  with  a  peculiar 
jagged  kind  of  edge ;  another  of  these  hags  grasped  a 
snake  by  the  neck — a  blood-curdling-looking  tamagas,  a 
snake  as  deadly  as  a  rattle-snake. 

"Opposite  the  centre-man  of  the  three  old  priests  stood 
a  girl-child,  about  ten  years  of  age,  and  perfectly  nude. 
During  the  first  few  moments  the  vapourous  kind  of 
smoke  that  was  wafted  by  a  draught  somewhere,  from 
the  fire-pan  on  the  floor  of  the  cave,  hid  the  child's  fea- 
tures, though  I  could  see  how  beautiful  of  form  she 
was ;  then,  as  the  smoke-wreath  presently  climbed  straight 
up,  I  was  startled  to  see  that  the  child  was  my  little 
friend. 

''In  my  amaze  I  had  almost  given  vent  to  some  exclam- 
ation, but  my  old  priest-guide  was  watching  me,  and 
checked  me. 

^'My  little  one's  beautiful  head  was  wreathed  with 
jasmine,  and  a  garland  of  purple  madre-de-cacoa  blossoms 
hung  about  her  lovely  shoulders. 


88  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

"Suddenly,  like  the  barely-audible  notes  of  the  open- 
ing music  of  some  orchestral  number,  the  voice  of  one 
of  the  priests  began  to  chant ;  in  turn  the  two  other  priests 
took  up  the  strain;  then  each  of  the  seven  hags  in  their 
turn,  and  anon  each  in  the  first  circle  of  squatting  wor- 
shippers, followed  by  each  woman  in  the  second  row: 
and  in  this  order  the  chant  proceeded,  until,  weird  and 
low,  every  voice  was  engaged. 

"Suddenly  the  combined  voices  ceased,  and  one 
woman's  voice  alone  rose  upon  the  stillness ;  and  fol- 
lowing the  sound  of  the  voice,  I  saw  that  it  was  the 
mother  of  my  little  native  child-friend.  I  had  not  noticed 
her  before — she  had  been  squatting  out  of  sight.  Hers 
was  not  the  chant  of  the  others,  but  a  strange,  mournful 
wail.  It  lasted  about  a  minute  and  a-half ;  then,  rising 
to  her  feet,  she  gently  thrust  the  child  forward  towards 
the  altar,  then  laid  herself  face  down  on  the  floor  of 
the  cave. 

"The  little  one  leaned  against  the  edge  of  the  altar, 
and  taking  up,  with  a  tiny  pair  of  bright  metal  tongs, 
a  little  fire  out  of  the  back  edge  of  the  bowl  on  the 
knees  of  the  god,  she  lighted  another  fire  on  the  front 
edge  of  the  bowl,  her  suddenly-illuminated  face  filled 
with  a  glowing  pride. 

"Then,  at  a  signal  from  the  head  priest,  the  child  lifted 
her  two  hands,  extended  them  across  the  altar,  when 
they  were  each  seized  by  the  two  other  priests,  and  the 
beautiful  little  body  was  drawn  slowly,  gently  over, 
until  the  smooth  breast  almost  touched  the  sacrificial  fire 
she  had  herself  lighted. 

"Then  I  saw  the  woman  who  had  held  the  knife  sud- 
denly yield  it  up  to  the  head  priest,  and  I  made  an 
unconscious  movement  to  spring  forward. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  89 

"My  guide  held  me,  and  whispered  his  warning  in  my 
ear:  yet,  even  though  I  must  be  murdered  myself,  I 
felt  I  dared  not  see  that  sweet  young  life  taken. 

"Like  a  man  suffering  with  nightmare,  who  wants 
to  move,  but  cannot,  I  stood  transfixed,  fascinated,  one 
instant  longer.  But  in  that  flashing  instant  the  head 
priest  had  swept,  with  lightning  speed,  the  edge  of  that 
hideous  knife  twice  across  the  little  one's  breast,  and  she 
stood  smiling  upwards  like  one  hypnotized. 

"The  priest  caught  a  few  drops  of  the  child's  blood, 
and  shook  them  into  the  bowl  of  the  god;  then  I  saw 
the  little  one  fall  into  her  mother's  arms;  there  was  si 
second  sudden  flashing  of  that  hideous  knife,  a  piteous, 
screaming  cry,  and  I  gave  vent  to  a  yell — ^but  not  voice 
to  it, — for  the  watching  guide  at  my  side  clapped  one 
hand  tightly  over  my  mouth,  while  with  the  other  he 
held  me  from  flying  out  into  the  ring  of  devils,  whispering 
in  my  ear  as  he  held  me  back, 

"  *It  is  the  goat  that  is  slain,  not  the  child.' 

"Another  glance,  and  I  saw  that  this  was  so;  one 
flash  of  that  obsidian  sacrificial  blade  across  the  throat 
of  the  kid  had  been  enough,  and  now  the  blood  was 
being  drained  into  the  bowl  of  the  god. 

"I  need  not  detail  all  the  other  hideous  ceremonies ; 
they  lasted  for  nearly  two  hours  longer,  ending  with  a 
mad  frenzied  dance,  in  which  all  joined  save  the  priests 
and  the  mother  and  child. 

"Every  dancer,  man  and  woman,  flung  off  every  rag 
of  clothing,  and  whirled  and  leaped  and  gyrated  in  their 
perfect  nudity,  until,  utterly  exhausted,  one  after  another 
they  sank  upon  the  floor. 

"Then  slowly  they  gathered  themselves  up,  reclothed 


90  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

themselves,  and  left  the  cave.  And  now  some  large 
pine  torches  were  lighted,  and  my  guide  drew  me  further 
back,  that  the  increased  glare  might  not  reveal  our  pres- 
ence, and  I  saw  the  curious  ending  to  this  weird  night's 
work.  The  priests  and  their  seven  women  sukias  opened 
a  pit  in  the  floor  of  the  cave  by  shifting  a  great  slab  of 
stone,  and  lowered  the  idol  into  the  pit.  The  remains 
of  the  kid,  the  sacrificial  knife,  and  the  dove  were  dropped 
into  the  bowl  of  blood  that  rested  on  the  knees  of  the 
idol ;  then  the  sukia  that  had  held  the  tamagas  snake  dur- 
ing the  whole  of  those  hideous  night  hours,  dropped  the 
writhing  thing  into  the  bowl,  and  the  slab  was  lowered 
quickly  over  the  pit,  every  seam  around  the  slab  being 
carefully  filled,  and  the  whole  thing  hidden  by  sprinkling 
loose  dust  and  the  ashes  from  the  fire  over  the  spot. 

'Then,  as  soon  as  the  last  of  the  performers  had 
cleared  the  cave,  I  followed  my  guide,  and  with  a  throb- 
bing head,  and  full  of  a  sense  of  strange  sickness,  I  went 
to  the  house  where  I  was  staying. 

*T  lay  down  upon  my  bed,  but  could  not  sleep ;  and  as 
early  as  I  dared  I  went  round  to  my  little  Martarae's 
home — Martarae  was  her  native  name.  Her  mother  met 
me,  said  that  the  child  would  not  come  out  in  the  sun 
to-day,  that  I  might  see  her  for  a  moment  if  I  pleased, 
but  that  she  was  not  very  well. 

"Sweet  little  soul !  I  found  her  lying  on  her  little 
bed,  with  a  proud  light  in  her  eyes,  and  a  very  flushed 
face. 

"A  fortnight  later  the  light  flesh  wounds  were  healed. 
She  showed  me  her  breast,  confided  to  me  the  story,  and 
asked  me  if  I  did  not  think  she  had  much  to  be  proud 
of. 

"  'Will  you  keep  a  secret  ?'  I  asked  her.     She  gave  me 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  91 

her  promise,  and  I  told  her  how  I  had  seen  the  whole 
thing,  and  all  my  fears  for  her. 

"A  week  later  she  was  orphaned.  Her  mother  was 
stung  by  a  deadly  scorpion,  and  died  in  an  hour,  and  I 
made  the  child  my  care. 

"She  has  travelled  everywhere  with  me  ever  since, 
and  you  see  how  fair  and  sweet  she  is,  and  how  beau- 
tifully she  speaks  our  EngHsh.  She  is  barely  twelve, 
is  naturally  gifted,  and  is  the  very  light  of  my  life." 

"Would  she  let  me  see  her  breast,  Ralph,  do  you 
think?"     Hammond  asked. 

Bastin  smiled,  and  spoke  a  word  to  the  child,  and  she, 
rising  to  her  feet  and  smiling  back  at  him,  unfastened 
the  broach  at  her  throat,  and,  laying  back  her  breast- 
covering,  showed  the  gleaming,  shiny  scars.  Then  as 
she  re-covered  her  chest,  she  said  softly: 

"Ralph  has  taught  me  that  those  gods  were  evil; 
but  though  I  shall  ever  wear  this  cross  in  the  flesh  of  my 
breast,  I  shall  ever  love  the  Christ  who  died  on  the 
world's  great  cross  at  Calvary." 

"It  is  a  most  marvellous  story,  Ralph,"  he  said  tearing 
his  eyes  away  from  the  child's  clear,  searching  gaze. 

"The  more  marvellous  because  absolutely  true," 
returned  Bastin. 

Then,  addressing  Viola,  and  relapsing,  of  course,  into 
English  for  her  sake,  he  explained  who  Tom  Hammond 
was,  and  that  he  (Ralph)  was  going  to  be  associated 
with  him  on  the  same  great  newspaper. 

"Mr.  Hammond  and  you,  Viola,  must  be  real  good 
friends,"  he  added. 

"Sure,  daddy !"  the  girl  said  smilingly ;  "I  like  him  much 
already " 


92  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

She  lifted  herself  slightly  until  she  rested  on  her  knees, 
and  stretching  one  hand  across  the  hearthrug  to  Tom 
Hammond,  she  laid  the  other  in  her  guardian's,  as  she 
went  on : 

"Mr.  Hammond  is  good!  I  know,  I  know,  for  his 
eyes  shine  true." 

A  ripple  of  merry  laughter  escaped  her,  as  she  gazed 
back  into  her  guardian's  face,  and  added : 

"But  you,  daddy,  are  always  first." 


CHAPTER  XL 
"LONG  ODDS." 

FOR  a  wonder,  Tom  Hammond  could  not  sleep. 
Usually,  when  the  last  thing  had  been  done,  and  he 
was  assured  that  everything  was  in  perfect  train  for 
the  morning's  issue,  he  ate  a  small  basin  of  boiled  milk 
and  bread,  which  he  invariably  took  by  way  of  a  "night- 
cap," then  went  to  bed,  and  slept  Hke  a  tired  ploughman. 
But  to-night  slumber  would  have  none  of  him. 

"It  must  be  the  various  excitements  of  the  day,"  he 
muttered.  "That  story  of  Ralph's  Caribbean  child  was 
enough  to  keep  a  fellow's  brain  working  for  a  week. 
Then  there  was  meeting  Ralph  so  unexpectedly,  just,  too, 
when  I  so  lusted  for  his  presence  and  help.  Then  there 
was  that  Joyce  item " 

His  mind  trailed  off  to  the  scene  of  the  morning, 
every  item  of  it  starting  up  in  a  new  and  vivid  light. 
Suddenly  he  recalled  the  booklet  Mrs.  Joyce  had  given 
him. 

"I  can't  sleep,"  he  murmured;  "I'll  find  that  thing 
and  read  it." 

His  fingers  sought  the  electric  switch.  The  next 
moment  the  room  was  full  of  light.  He  got  out  of  bed, 
passed  quickly  through  to  his  dressing-room,  found  the 
coat  that  he  had  worn  that  morning,  and  secured  the 
booklet. 

He  went  back  again  to  bed,  and,  lying  on  his  elbow, 
opened  the  dainty  little  printed  thing  and  began  to  read 
thus: 


94  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

''long  odds" 

"You  don't  say  so!     Where  on  earth  has  she  gone?" 

"I  can't  say,  sir,  but  it's  plain  enough  she  is  missing, 
Hasn't  been  seen  since  last  night  when  she  went  up  tc 
her  room." 

I  zvas  put  out,  I  own;  my  man  on  waking  me  had 
informed  me  that  the  cook  was  missing;  she  had  gone 
to  bed  without  anything  being  noticed  amiss,  and  was 
now  nowhere  to  be  found.  She  was  always  an  odd 
woman,  but  a  capital  cook.  What  had  become  of  her? 
The  very  last  sort  of  person  to  disappear  in  this  way — 
a  respectable  elderly  Scotchwoman — really  quite  a  treas- 
ure in  the  country ;  and  the  more  I  thought  of  it  while  I 
dressed,  the  more  puzzled  I  became.  I  hardly  liked  to 
send  for  the  police ;  and  then  again  it  was  awkward, 
very — people  coming  to  dinner  that  day.  It  was  really 
too  bad. 

But  I  had  scarcely  finished  dressing  when  in  rushed 
my  man  again.  I  do  so  dislike  people  being  excited,  and 
he  was  more  than  excited. 

"Please,  sir,  Mr.  Vend  has  come  round  to  see  you; 
his  coachman  has  gone — went  off  in  the  night,  and 
hasn't  left  a  trace  behind,  and  they  say  the  gardener's 
boy  is  with  him." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "it  is  extraordinary;  tell  Mr.  Vend 
I'm  coming;  stay,  I'll  go  at  once." 

It  was  really  past  belief — the  three  of  them!  After 
an  hour's  talk  with  Vend,  no  explanation  offered  itself, 
so  we  decided  to  go  to  town  as  usual. 

We  walked  down  to  the  station,  and  saw  at  once  some- 
thing was  wrong.  Old  Weeks,  the  stationmaster,  was 
quite  upset:  his  pointsman  was  missing,  and  the  one 
porter   had   to  take   up  his   duty.     However,   the   train 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  95 

coming  up,  we  had  no  time  to  question  him,  but  jumped 
in.  There  were  three  other  people  in  the  compartment, 
and  really  I  thought  I  was  going  off  my  head  when  I 
heard  what  they  were  discussing.  Vend,  too,  didn't 
seem  to  know  if  he  was  on  his  head  or  his  heels.  It  was 
this  that  startled  us  so:  "What  can  have  become  of 
them  all?" 

I  heard  no  more.  I  really  believe  I  swooned,  but  at 
the  next  station — a  large  one — we  saw  consternation  on 
every  face.  I  pinched  myself  to  see  if  I  was  dreaming. 
I  tried  to  persuade  myself  I  was.  Vend  looked  ghastly. 
A  passenger  got  in;  he  did  not  look  quite  so  dazed  as 
some  did,  but  savage  and  cross.  For  a  time  none  spoke ; 
at  last  someone  said  aloud — I  don't  think  he  expected 
an  answer — 

"What  on  earth's  become  of  them  ?"  and  the  cross  look- 
ing man,  who  got  in  last,  growled  out, 

"That's  the  worst  of  it;  they  are  not  on  earth,  they 
are  gone.  My  boy  always  said  it  would  be  so;  from 
the  very  first  moment  I  heard  it,  I  knew  what  had  hap- 
pened; often  he  has  warned  me.  I  still  have  his  voice 
ringing  in  my  ears. 

"  T  tell  you,  in  that  night  there  shall  be  two  men  in 
one  bed:  the  one  shall  be  taken,  and  the  other  shall  be 
left.'     (Luke  xvii.  34.) 

"I  know  only  too  well  'that  night'  was  last  night. 
I've  often  prayed  for  it  without  thinking,  and  so  I  dare- 
say have  you :  'Thy  kingdom  come.'  It  makes  me  so 
savage  I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

Now,  I  was  an  atheist,  and  did  not  believe  the  Bible. 
For  the  last  thirty  years  (I  am  past  fifty)  I  had  stuck 
to  my  opinions,  and  when  I  heard  men  talk  religious 
trash  I  invariably  objected. 


96  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

But  this  seemed  altogether  different.  I  tell  you,  for 
a  thousand  pounds  I  couldn't  have  said  a  word.  I  just 
hoped  it  would  all  turn  out  a  dream,  but  the  further  we 
went,  the  more  certain  it  became  that  we  were  all  awake, 
and  that  by  some  unaccountable  visitation  of  Providence 
a  number  of  people  had  suddenly  disappeared  in  the  night. 

The  whole  of  society  was  unhinged;  everybody  had 
to  do  somebody's  else's  work.  For  instance,  at  the 
terminus,  a  porter  had  been  put  into  Smith's  stall,  as  the 
usual  man  was  missing.  Cabs  were  not  scarce,  but  some 
of  those  who  drove  them  seemed  unlicensed  and  new 
to  their  work.  The  shutters  in  some  of  the  shops  were 
up,  and  on  getting  to  my  bank  I  heard  the  keys  had 
only  just  been  found. 

Everyone  was  silent,  and  afraid  lest  some  great  mis- 
fortune was  coming.  I  noticed  we  all  seemed  to  mistrust 
one  another,  and  yet  as  each  fresh  clerk,  turned  up  late, 
entered  the  counting-room,  a  low  w^hisper  went  round. 
The  chief  cashier,  as  I  expected,  did  not  come.  The 
newspapers  no  one  cared  to  look  at;  there  seemed  a 
tacit  opinion  that  they  could  tell  us  nothing. 

Business  was  at  a  standstill.  I  saw  that  very  soon. 
I  hoped  as  the  day  wore  on  that  it  would  revive,  but 
it  did  not.  The  clerks  went  off  without  asking  my 
permission,  and  I  was  left  alone.  I  felt  I  hated  them. 
I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  I  could  not  well  leave, 
else  they  might  say  the  bank  had  stopped  payment,  and 
yet  I  felt  I  could  not  stay  there.  Business  seemed  to 
have  lost  its  interest,  and  money  its  value.  I  put  up  the 
shutters  myself,  and  at  once  noticed  what  a  change  had 
come  over  the  City  while  I  had  been  at  the  bank.  Then 
all  were  trying  to  fill  the  void  places;  now  it  seemed 
as  if  the  attempt  had  failed. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  97 

In  the  City  some  of  the  streets  had  that  dismal  Sunday 
appearance,  while  a  few  houses  had  been  broken  into; 
but  in  the  main  thoroughfares  there  was  a  dense  mass 
of  people,  hurrying,  it  struck  me,  they  knew  not  where. 
Some  seemed  dazed,  others  almost  mad  with  terror.  At 
the  stations  confusion  reigned,  and  I  heard  there  had 
been  some  terrible  accidents.  I  went  into  my  club,  but 
the  waiters  had  gone  off  without  leave,  and  one  had  to 
help  oneself. 

As  evening  came  on,  I  saw  the  lurid  reflection  of 
several  fires,  but,  horrible  to  say,  no  one  seemed  to 
mind,  and  I  felt  myself  that  if  the  whole  of  London 
were  burnt,  and  I  with  it,  I  should  not  care.  For  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  no  longer  feared  Death :  I  rather 
looked  on  him  as  a  friend. 

As  the  gas  was  not  lit,  and  darkness  came  down 
upon  us,  one  heard  cries  and  groans.  I  tried  to  light 
the  gas,  but  it  was  not  turned  on.  I  remembered  there 
was  a  taper  in  the  writing-room.  I  went  and  lit  it,  but 
of  course  it  did  not  last  long.  I  groped  my  way  into 
the  dining-room,  and  helped  myself  to  some  wine,  but  I 
could  not  find  much,  and  what  I  took  seemed  to  have 
no  effect;  and  when  I  heard  voices,  they  fell  on  me 
as  if  I  were  in  a  dream.  They  were  talking  of  the 
Bible,  though,  and  it  now  seemed  the  one  book  worth 
thinking  of,  yet  in  our  vast  club  library  I  doubt  if  I  should 
have  found  a  single  copy. 

One  said :  ''What  haunts  me  are  the  words  'Watch 
therefore.'     You  can't  zvatch  now." 

I  thought  of  my  dinner  party.  Little  had  I  imagined 
a  week  ago,  when  I  issued  the  invitations,  how  I  should 
be  passing  the  hour. 

Suddenly  I  remembered  the  secretary  had  been  a  religi- 


98  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

ous  fanatic,  and  I  made  my  way  slowly  to  his  room, 
knocking  over  a  table,  in  my  passage,  with  glasses  on 
it.  It  fell  with  a  crash  which  sounded  through  the 
house,  but  no  one  noticed  it.  By  the  aid  of  a  match  I 
saw  candles  on  his  writing  table  and  lit  them.  Yes !  as 
I  thought,  there  was  his  Bible.  It  was  open  as  if  he 
had  been  reading  it  when  called  away,  and  another  book 
I  had  never  seen  before  lay  alongside  of  it — a  sort  of 
index. 

The  Bible  was  open  at  Proverbs,  and  these  verses, 
being  marked,  caught  my  eye: 

''Because  I  have  called  and  ye  refused,  I  have  stretched 
out  My  hand  and  no  man  regarded;  I  also  will  laugh  at 
your  calamity;  I  will  mock  when  your  fear  cometh." 

I  had  never  thought  before  of  God  laughing — of  God 
mocking.  I  had  fancied  man  alone  did  that.  Man's 
laughing  had  ended  now — I  saw  that  pretty  plain. 

I  had  a  hazy  recollection  of  a  verse  that  spoke  of  men 
wanting  the  rocks  to  fall  on  them ;  so  looked  it  up  in  the 
index.  Yes,  there  was  the  word  "Rock,"  and  some  of 
the  passages  were  marked  with  a  pencil.  One  was  Deut. 
xxxii.  15 :  "He  forsook  God  which  made  him,  and  lightly 
esteemed  the  Rock  of  our  Salvation." 

Perhaps  he  marked  that  passage  after  he  had  had  a 
talk  with  me.  How  well  I  remember  the  earnestness 
with  which  he  pressed  salvation  upon  me  that  day — 
explaining  the  simplicity  of  trusting  Christ  and  His 
blood  for  pardon — and  assuring  me  that  if  I  only 
yielded  myself  to  the  Lord  I  should  understand  the 
peace  and  joy  he  talked  about.  But  it  was  no  use.  I 
remember  I  only  chaffed  him,  and  said  mockingly  that 
his  God  was  a  myth,  and  time  would  prove  it,  and  he 
answered, 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  99 

"Never.  'Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away,  but 
My  Word  shall  not  pass  away.'    He  may  come  to-night." 

I  laughed  and  said,  ''What  odds  will  you  take?  I  lay 
you  long  ones." 

Another  passage  marked  was  I.  Samuel  ii.  2,  "Neither 
is  there  any  rock  like  our  God,"  and  lower  still  "Man 
who  built  his  house  upon  a  rock." 

I  had  no  need  to  look  that  out.  I  knew  what  it  referred 
to,  and  then  my  eye  caught  Matt,  xxvii.  51,  "The  earth 
did  quake,  and  the  rocks  rent."  That  was  when  Christ 
died  to  save  sinners,  died  to  save  me — and  yet  I  had 
striven  against  Him  all  my  life.  I  could  not  bear  to 
read  more.  I  shut  the  book  and  got  up.  There  were 
some  texts  hanging  over  the  fireplace : 

"Repent  ye  therefore,  and  be  converted,  that  your  sins 
may  be  blotted  out." — Acts  iii.  19. 

"The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  His  son  cleanseth  us  from 
all  sin." — I  John  i.  7. 

"Now  is  the  accepted  time;  behold,  now  is  the  day  of 
salvation." — 2  Cor.  vi.  2. 

As  I  turned  to  leave  the  room  these  caught  my  eye, 
and  I  said,  "Well,  I  have  been  a  fool." 

Tom  Hammond  looked  up  from  the  little  booklet, — 
a  look  of  bewilderment  was  in  his  eyes,  a  sense  of  blank- 
ness,  almost  of  stupefaction,  in  his  mind.  Like  one  who, 
half  stunned,  passes  through  some  strange  and  wondrous 
experience,  and  slowly  recalls  every  iterri  of  that  experi- 
ence as  fuller  consciousness  returns,  he  went,  mentally, 
slowly  over  the  story  of  the  little  book. 

"The  verisimilitude  of  the  whole  story  is  little  less 
than  startling,"  he  murmured.  His  eyes  dropped  upon 
the  book  again,  and  he  read  the  last  line  aloud:  "Well, 
I  have  been  a  fool." 


100  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

Slowly,  meditatively,  he  added :  ''And  I,  with  every 
other  otherwise  sane  man  who  has  been  careless  as  to 
whether  such  things  are  to  be,  am  as  big  a  fool  as  the 
man  in  that  book !" 

He  laid  the  dainty^  little  messenger  down  on  the  table 
by  his  bedside.  His  handling  of  the  book  was  almost 
reverential.  Reaching  to  the  electric  lever,  he  switched 
off  the  light.  He  wanted  to  think,  and  he  could  think 
best  in  the  dark. 

"Of  course,  I  know  historically/'  he  mused,  "all  the 
events  of  the  Christ's  life.  His  death.  His  resurrection, 

and — and Well,  there,  I  think,  my  knowledge  ends. 

In  a  vague  way  I  have  always  known  that  the  Bible  said 
something  of  a  great  final  denouement  to  all  the  World 
Drama — an  award  time  of  some  kind,  a  millennium  of 
perfect — perfect — well  perfect  everything  that  is  peace- 
ful and Oh,  I  don't  know  much  about  it,  after  all.     I 

am  very  much  in  a  fog.  I  see,  for  Mrs.  Joyce  and  that 
booklet  both  speak  of  a  return  of  Christ  into  the  air, 
whither  certain  dead  and  certain  living  are  to  be  caught 
up  to  be  with  Him  and  to  begin  an  eternity  of  bliss.'' 

For  a  moment  or  two  he  tried  to  disentangle  his  many 
thoughts ;  then,  with  a  weary  little  sigh,  he  gave  up  the 
task,  murmuring:  "/  certainly  am  not  ready  for  any 
such  event.  If  there  is  to  be  a  hideous  leaving  behind 
of  the  iiwready,  then  I  should  be  left  to  all  that  unknown 
hideousness." 

A  myriad  thoughts  crowded  upon  his  brain.  He  gave 
up,  at  length,  the  perplexing  attempt  to  think  out  the 
problem,  telling  himself  that  with  the  coming  of  the  new 
day  he  would  begin  a  definite  search  for  the  real  facts 
of  this  great  mystery — the  second  coming  of  Christ. 

By  an  exercise  of  his  will  he  finally  settled  himself 
to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  CENTRE  OF  THE  EARTH. 

WILL  you  come  into  my  workroom,  Mr.  Ham- 
mond? It  is  a  kind  of  sanctum  to  me  as  well 
as  a  workroom,  and  I  always  feel  that  I  can  talk  freer 
there  than  anywhere  else." 

It  was  the  Jew,  Abraham  Cohen,  who  said  these 
words.  His  visitor  was  Tom  Hammond.  It  was  the 
morning  after  that  Tom  Hammond  had  been  troubled 
about  "Long  Odds"  and  its  mysterious  subject. 

Jew  and  Gentile  had  had  a  few  moments'  general 
talk  in  the  sitting-room  downstairs,  but  Cohen  wanted 
to  see  his  visitor  alone — to  be  where  nothing  should 
interrupt  their  conversation. 

Tom  Hammond's  first  vision  of  Cohen's  workroom 
amazed  him.  As  we  have  seen  before,  the  apartment 
was  a  large  one,  and,  besides  being  a  workroom,  partook 
of  the  character  of  a  study,  den,  sanctum — anything  of 
that  order  that  best  pleases  the  reader. 

But  it  was  the  finished  work  which  chiefly  arrested 
the  attention  of  Tom  Hammond,  and  in  wondering  tones 
he  cried :  'Tt  is  all  so  exquisitely  wrought  and  fashioned ! 
But  zuhat  can  it  be  for?" 

Cohen  searched  his  visitor's  face  with  his  deep  grave 
eyes. 

"Will  you  give  me  your  word,  Mr.  Hammond,"  he 
asked,  "that  you  will  hold  in  strictest  confidence  the 
fact  that  this  work  is  here  in  this  place,  if  I  tell  you 
what  it  is  for?" 

"I  do  give  you  my  word  of  honour,  Mr.  Cohen."     As 


102  JN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

he  spoke,  Toiii  Hiimmond  held  forth  his  hand.  The  Jew 
grasped  the  hand,  there  was  an  exchange  of  grips ;  then, 
as  their  clasp  parted,  the  Jew  said : 

"1  do  not  wish  to  bind  you  to  any  secrecy  as  to  the 
fact  that  such  work  as  this  is  being  performed  in  Eng- 
land, but  only  that  you  should  preserve  the  secret  of 
the  whereabouts  of  the  w^ork  and  workers."  With  a 
sudden  glow  of  pride — it  flashed  in  his  eyes,  it  rang  in 
his  tones — he  cried,  "This  work  is  for  the  New  Temple !" 

"The  New  Temple?  I  don't  think  I  quite  understand 
you,  Mr.  Cohen.  Where  is  this  temple  being  built?" 
There  was  amaze  in  Tom  Hammond's  voice. 

'Tt  is  not  yet  begun,"  replied  the  Jew.  "That  is,  the 
actual  rearing  has  not  yet  begun,  though  the  prepara- 
tions are  well  forward.  The  New  Temple  is  to  be  at 
Jerusalem,  Mr.  Hammond." 

The  ring  of  pride  deepened  in  his  voice  as  he  went 
on:  "There  can  be  no  other  site  for  the  Temple  of 
Jehovah  save  Zion,  the  city  of  our  God,  beautiful  for 
situation,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth — the  centre  of  the 
world,  Mr.  Hammond." 

As  he  talked,  Tom  Hammond,  watching  him  intently, 
saw  how  the  soul  of  the  man  and  the  hope  of  the  true 
Israelite  shone  out  of  his  eyes. 

Crossing  the  room  to  where  a  chart  of  the  world 
(on  Mercator's  Projection)  hung  on  the  wall,  the  Jew 
took  an  inch-marked  straight-edge,  and  laying  one  end 
of  it  on  Barrow  Point,  Alaska,  he  marked  the  spot  on  the 
straight-edge  where  it  touched  Jerusalem.  From  Jeru- 
salem to  Wrangel  Land,  Siberia,  farthest  east,  he  showed 
by  his  straight-edge  that  practically  he  got  the  same 
measurement  as  when  from  the  west.  From  Jerusalem 
to  North  Cape,  Scandinavia,  and  from  Jerusalem  to  the 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  103 

Cape  of  Good  Hope,  he  showed  again  was  each  prac- 
tically the  same  distance. 

"Always,  always,  is  Zion  the  centre  of  the  inhabited 
earth!"  he  cried  in  quiet,  excited  tones.  Moving  quickly 
back  to  Hammond's  side,  he  said:  ''Did  you  ever  think 
of  this,  sir,  that,  practically  speaking,  all  the  nations 
west  of  Jerusalem  (those  of  Europe)  write  from  west 
to  east — that  is,  towards  the  city  of  our  God;  whilst  all 
the  Asiatic  races  (those  east  of  Zion)  write  from  east 
to  west — just  the  opposite, — but  always  towards  Zion? 
No,  no,  sir ;  there  can  be  no  other  place  on  earth  for  the 
New  Temple  of  Jehovah  save  Jerusalem.  Read  Ezekiel, 
from  the  fortieth  chapter,  sir,  and  you  will  see  how 
glorious  a  Temple  Jehovah  is  to  have  soon.  'Show  the 
house  to  the  people  of  Israel,'  God  said  in  vision  to  His 
prophet,  'and  let  them  build  it  after  the  sum,  the  pat- 
tern which  I  show  you.'  And  that,  sir,  is  what  we  are 
doing." 

"Who  are  the  zve  who  are  doing  this?"  Tom  Ham- 
mond's face  was  as  full  of  wonder  as  his  voice.  "Who," 
he  continued,  "makes  the  plans,  gives  the  orders,  finds 
the  funds?" 

"Wealthy,  patriotic  men  of  our  people,  sir.  We  as  a 
race  are  learning  that  soon  the  Messiah  will  come,  and 
we  are  proving  our  belief  by  preparing  for  the  House 
of  our  God.  Italian  Jews  all  over  Italy  are  carving  the 
richest  marbles ;  wrought  iron,  wondrous  works  in  metal, 
gold  and  silver  ornaments,  cornices,  chapiters,  bells  for 
the  high  priest's  robes,  and  a  myriad  other  things  are 
being  prepared ;  so  that  the  moment  the  last  restriction 
on  our  land — the  land  of  our  fathers,  the  land  which 
Jehovah  gave  unto  our  forefather  Abraham,  \saying, 
'Your  seed  shall  possess  it' — is  removed,  we  shall  begin 


104  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

to  ship  the  several  prepared  parts  of  the  Temple  to 
Palestine,  as  the  Gentiles  term  our  land." 

A  curious  little  smile  flittered  over  his  face  as  he 
added. 

"The  very  march  of  modern  times  in  the  East,  Mr. 
Hammond,  is  all  helping  to  make  the  consummation  of 
our  work  more  easy.  The  new  railways  laid  from  the 
coast  to  Jerusalem  are  surely  part  of  the  providence  of 
our  God.  When  Messiah  comes,  sir,  we  shall  be  waiting 
ready  for  Him,  I  trust." 

"But  do  you  not  know,"  Tom  Hammond  interrupted, 
"that  according  to  every  record  of  history  as  well  as 
the  New  Testament,  all  Christendom  has  believed,  for 
all  the  ages  since,  that  the  Messiah  came  nearly  two 
thousand  years  ago?" 

"The  Nazarener 

There  was  as  much  or  more  of  pity  than  scorn  in 
the  voice  of  the  Jew  as  he  uttered  the  word. 

"How  could  He  be  the  Messiah,  sir?  he  went  on. 
"Could  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth?  Besides, 
our  Messiah  is  to  redeem  Israel,  to  deliver  them  from 
the  hand  of  the  oppressor,  and  to  gather  again  into  one 
nation  all  our  scattered  race.  No,  no!  a  thousand  times 
No !    The  Nazarene  could  not  be  our  Messiah  ?" 

Turning  quickly  to  Hammond,  he  asked,  "Are  you  a 
CTiristian,  sir?" 

For  a  moment  Tom  Hammond  was  startled  by  the 
suddenness,  the  definiteness,  of  the  question.  He  found 
no  immediate  word  of  reply. 

"You  are  a  Gentile,  of  course,  Mr.  Hammond,"  the 
Jew  went  on;  "but  are  you  a  Christian?  For  it  is  a 
curious  fact  that  I  find  very  few  Gentiles  whom  I  have 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  105 

met,  even  professed  Christians,  and  fewer  still  who  ever 

pretend  to  live  up  to  their  profession." 

Tom  Hammond  recovered  himself  sufficiently  to  say: 
"Yes,  I  am  a  Gentile,  of  course,  and  I  suppose  I  am 


It  struck  him,  as  he  floundered  in  the  second  half 
of  his  reply,  as  being  very  extraordinary  that  he  should 
fmd  it  difficult  to  state  why  he  supposed  he  was  a 
Christian.    While  he  hesitated  the  Jew  went  on : 

"Why  should  you  say  you  suppose,  sir  ?  Is  there  noth- 
ing distinctive  enough  about  the  possession  of  Christianity 
to  give  assurance  of  it  to  its  possessor?  I  do  not  sup- 
pose I  am  a  Jew,  sir  (by  religion  I  mean,  and  not  merely 
by  race.)  No,  sir,  I  do  not  suppose,  for  I  know  it.  There 
is  all  the  difference  in  the  world,  it  seems  to  me,  sir, 
between  the  mere  theology  and  the  religion  of  the  faith 
we  profess.  The  religion  is  Hfe,  it  seems  to  me,  sir; 
theology  is  only  the  science  of  that  life." 

Both  men  were  so  utterly  absorbed  in  their  talk  that 
they  did  not  hear  a  touch  on  the  handle  of  the  door. 
It  was  only  as  it  opened  that  they  turned  round.  Zillah 
stood  framed  in  the  doorway.  Cohen,  who  saw  her 
every  day,  realized  that  she  had  never  looked  so  radiantly 
beautiful  before.  She  had  almost  burst  into  the  room, 
but  paused  as  she  saw  that  a  stranger  was  present. 

"Excuse  me,"  she  began ;  "I  had  no  idea  you  had  a 
friend  with  you,  Abraham." 

She  would  have  retreated,  but  he  stopped  her  with  an 
eager — 

"Come  in,  Zillah." 

She  advanced,  gazing  in  curious  inquiry  at  Hammond. 

"This  is  Mr.  Tom  Hammond,  editor  of  the  'Courier/ 


106  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

Zillab,"  Cohen  explained  to  the  young  girl.  To  Ham- 
mond he  added,  ''My  wife's  sister,  Zillah  Robart." 

The  introduced  pair  shook  hands.  The  young  Jew 
went  on  to  explain  to  Zillah  how  the  great  editor  came 
to  be  visiting  him. 

Tom  Hammond's  eyes  were  fixed  u])on  the  vision  of 
loveliness  that  the  Jewess  made.  She  \vas  going  to 
assist  at  the  wedding  of  a  girl-friend,  and  had  come  to 
show  herself  to  her  brother-in-law  before  starting. 
Lovely  at  the  most  ordinary  times,  she  looked  perfectly 
radiant  in  her  well-chosen  wedding  finery. 

Tom  Hammond  had  seen  female  loveliness  in  many 
lands — East,  North,  West,  South.  He  had  gazed  upon 
women  who  seemed  too  lovely  for  earth — women  whose 
flesh  was  alabaster,  whose  glance  would  woo  emperors; 
women  whose  skins  glowed  with  the  olive  of  southern 
lands,  the  glance  of  whose  black,  lustrous  eyes  intoxicated 
the  beholder  in  the  first  instant :  Inez  of  Spain,  Mousmee 
of  Japan,  Katrina  of  Russia,  Carlotta  of  Naples,  Rosie 
of  Paris,  Maggie  of  the  Scottish  Highlands,  Patty  of 
Wales,  Kate  of  Ireland,  and  a  score  of  other  typical 
beauties.  But  this  Jewish  maiden,  this  Zillah  of  Fins- 
bury — she  was  beyond  all  his  thought  or  knowledge  of 
feminine  loveliness. 

While  Cohen  talked  on  for  a  moment  or  two,  and 
Zillah's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  brother-in-law,  Tom 
Hammond's  gaze  was  riveted  upon  the  lovely  girl. 

Every  feature  of  her  beautiful  face  became  photo- 
graphed on  his  brain.  Had  he  been  a  clever  artist,  he 
could  have  gone  to  his  studio  and  have  flung  with  burn- 
ing, brilliant  haste  her  face  upon  his  canvas. 

He  thought  of  Zenobia  as  he  looked  upon  her  brow. 
He   wondered   if   ever   two   such   wide,   black,   lustrous 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  107 

eyes  had  ever  shone  in  the  face  of  a  woman  before,  or 
whether  a  female  soul  had  ever  before  been  mirrored  in 
such  eyes. 

Her  mouth  was  not  the  large,  wide  feature  so  often 
seen  in  women  of  her  race,  but  of  exquisite  lines,  with 
ripe,  full  lips,  as  brilliant  in  colour  as  the  most  glowing 
coral.  Her  eyes  were  fringed  with  the  blackest,  finest, 
silkiest  lashes.  Her  hair  was  raven  in  hue  and  won- 
drous in  its  wealth. 

He  realized,  in  that  first  moment  of  full  gazing  upon 
her,  how  faded  every  other  female  face  must  >ever 
seem  beside  her  glorious  beauty.  With  a  strange  freak 
of  mental  conjuring,  Madge  Finisterre  and  that  inter- 
rupted tete-a-tete  rose  up  before  him,  and  a  sudden  sense 
of  relief  swept  over  him  that  George  Carlyon  had 
returned  at  the  moment  that  he  did. 

"It  is  all  so  strange,  so  wonderful  to  me,  what  I 
have  seen  and  heard  here,"  he  jerked  out  as  Cohen 
finished  his  explanation. 

Hammond  spoke  to  the  beautiful  girl,  whose  great 
lustrous  eyes  had  suddenly  come  back  to  his  face. 

For  a  moment  or  two  longer  he  voiced  his  admira- 
tion of  the  separate  pieces  of  finished  work,  and  spoke 
of  his  own  growing  interest  in  the  Jewish  race. 

The  great  black  eyes  that  gazed  upwards  into  his, 
grew  liquid  with  the  evident  emotion  that  filled  the  soul 
of  the  beautiful  girl.  With  the  frank,  hearty,  simple 
gesture  of  the  perfectly  unconventional  woman,  she 
held  forth  her  hand  to  Hammond  as  she  said: 

"It  is  so  good  of  you,  sir,  to  speak  thus  of  my  brother- 
in-law's  work  and  of  our  race.  There  are  few  who 
speak  kindly  of  us.  Even  though,  as  a  nation,  you  Eng- 
lish give  our  poor  persecuted  people  sanctuary,  yet  there 


106  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

are  few  who  care  for  us  or  speak  kindly  of  us,  and  fewer 
still  who  speak  kindly  to  us." 

Tom  Hammond  held  the  pretty,  plump  little  hand  that 
she  offered  him  clasped  warmly  in  his,  almost  forgetting 
himself  as  he  gazed  down  into  her  expressive  face  and 
listened  to  her  rich  musical  voice.  There  was  an  ardency 
in  his  gaze  that  was  unknown,  unrealized,  by  himself. 

The  olive  of  the  girl's  cheeks  warmed  under  the  power 
of  his  gaze.  He  saw  the  warm  colour  rise,  and  remem- 
bered himself,  shifted  his  eyes,  and  released  her  hand. 

*T  must  not  stay  another  moment,  Abraham,"  she 
cried,  turning  to  the  Jew.  "Adah  would  be  vexed  if  I 
were  late." 

She  turned  back  to  Hammond,  but  before  she  could 
speak  he  was  saying, 

"Good-bye,  Miss  Robart;  I  hope  we  may  meet  again. 
What  your  brother  has  already  told  me  only  incites  me 
to  come  again  and  see  him,  for  there  are  many  things 
T  want  to  know." 

He  shook  hands  with  the  girl  again.  His  eyes  met 
hers,  and  again  he  saw  the  olive  cheeks  suddenly  warm. 

Ten  minutes  later  he  was  driving  back  to  his  office, 
his  mind  in  a  strange  whirl,  the  beautiful  face  of  Zillah 
Robart  filling  all  his  vision. 

He  pulled  himself  up  at  last,  and  laughed  low  and 
amusedly  as  he  murmured, 

"And  I  am  the  man  whose  pulses  had  never  been 
quickened  by  the  sight  or  the  touch  of  a  woman  until 
I  met  her " 

The  memory  of  Madge  Finisterre  flashed  into  his 
mind.     He  smiled  to  himself  as  he  mused : 

"Even  when  I  seemed  most  smitten  by  Madge,  by  her 
piquant  Americanism,  I  told  myself  I  was  not  sure  that 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  109 

love  had  anything  to  do  with  my  feelings.  Now  I 
know  it  had  not." 

His  eyes  filled  suddenly  with  a  kind  of  staring  wonder 
as  he  cried  out,  in  a  low,  startled  undertone : 

"Am  I  inferring  to  myself  that  this  sudden  admiration 
for  Zillah  Robart  has  any  element  of  love  in  it?" 

He  smiled  at  his  own  unuttered  answer.  The  cab 
pulled  up  at  the  door  of  the  office  at  that  moment.  He 
came  back  sharply  to  everyday  things. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  DEMON. 

MADGE  FINISTERRE  awoke  early  on  the  morn- 
ing after  that  discussion  with  herself  anent  Ham- 
mond's possible  proposal. 

With  startling  suddenness,  as  she  lay  still  a  moment, 
a  vision  of  the  pastor  of  Balhang  came  up  before  her 
mind.  Then  a  Strang  thing  happened  to  her,  for  a 
yearning  sense  of  home-sickness  suddenly  filled  her. 

She  tried  to  laugh  at  herself  for  her  "childishness,  as 
she  called  it,  and  sprang  from  her  bed  to  prepare  for 
her  bath.  Standing  for  one  instant  by  the  bedside,  she 
murmured : 

"But,  after  all,  it  is  time  I  was  paddling  across  again. 
Who  ever  heard  of  anyone  from  our  side  staying  here 
through  the  winter?  I  must  think  this  all  out  seriously. 
Anyway,  I'll  get  my  bath,  and  dress,  and  go  for  a  stroll 
before  breakfast.  They  say  that  one  ought  to  see  sub- 
urban London  pouring  over  the  bridges  into  London  city 
in  the  early  morning.     TTl  go  this  morning." 

Half-an-hour  later  she  was  dressed  ready  for  her 
expedition.  As  she  passed  the  office  on  her  way  out, 
they  were  sorting  the  morning  mail.  She  waited  for 
her  letters.     There  was  only  one,  but  it  was  from  home. 

Racing  back  to  her  room,  she  tore  it  open  with  an 
eagerness  born,  unconsciously  to  herself,  of  the  nostalgia 
that  had  seized  upon  her  three-quarters  of  an  hour  before. 

There  were  two  large,  closely-written  sheets  in  the 
letter — one  from  her  father  and  one  from  her  mother. 
Each  told  their  own  news. 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  111 

She  read  her  father's  first;  every  item  interested  her, 
though  as  she  read  she  seemed  to  feel  that  there  was 
all  through  it  an  underlying  strain  of  longing  for  her 
return. 

"Dear  old  poppa!"  she  murmured  as  she  neared  the 
finish  of  the  epistle. 

Suddenly  her  eyes  took  in  the  two  lines  of  postscript 
jammed  close  into  the  bottom  edge  of  the  first  sheet. 
Her  heart  seemed  to  stand  still  as  she  read : — 

"Pastor  is  considered  sick.  Doctor  can't  make  his 
case  out." 

"Pastor  sick!"  She  gasped  the  words  aloud;  then, 
turning  swiftly  to  her  mother's  letter,  she  cried: 
"Momma  will  tell  more  than  this !" 

Her  eyes  raced  over  the  written  lines.  Her  mother 
said  a  little  more  than  her  father  had  done  about  the 
sickness  of  their  friend  and  pastor;  not  much,  though, 
in  actual  words,  but  to  the  disturbed  heart  of  the  young 
girl  there  seemed  to  her  much  deeper  meaning. 

An  excited  trembling  came  upon  her  for  a  few 
moments.  The  next  instant  she  had  put  a  strong  curb 
upon  herself,  and,  folding  the  letters,  and  replacing  them 
in  the  envelope,  she  cried  out  quietly,  but  sharply: 

"The  boat  from  Southampton  sails  at  two  to-day.  I'll 
catch  that !" 

The  next  instant  she  was  divesting  herself  of  her 
hat  and  jacket,  and  began  to  set  about  her  packing. 

Now  and  again  she  talked  to  herself  thus:  "Sick, 
is  he?  Poor  old  pastor!  I  guess  I  know  what's  the 
matter  with  him,  and  I'll  put  him  right  in  five  minutes," 


112  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

She  smiled  as  she  went  on:  "I  guess,  too,  I've  found 
out  what's  the  matter  with  me — I  want  to  be  a  pastor's 
wife!" 

The  next  instant  her  voice  was  carolHng  out : 

"For  I  tell  them  they  need  not  come  wooing  of  me, 
For  my  heart,  my  heart,  is  over  the  sea." 

Her  fingers  were  busy,  her  mind  all  the  time  kept 
mentally  arranging  a  host  of  things. 

"I  wonder,"  she  murmured  presently,  *'how  Uncle 
Archibald  and  George  will  take  my  sudden  departure? 
Well,  I'm  glad  George  is  out  of  town.  He's  been  show- 
ing signs  of  spoons  lately  with  me,  so  it's  best,  perhaps, 
that  I  should  get  off  without  seeing  him." 

******* 

By  eleven  that  forenoon  she  had  left  Waterloo.  Her 
uncle  had  seen  her  off  from  the  station.  He  wanted  to 
accompany  her  to  Southampton,  but  she  would  not  hear 
of  it. 

"I  want  to  be  very  quiet  all  the  way  down,"  she  said, 
"and  write  some  important  letters.  Make  my  excuses 
to  everybody,  and  explain  that  I  only  had  an  hour  or 
two  to  do  everything." 

At  the  last  moment  her  uncle  slipped  an  envelope  into 
her  hand,  saying,  "You  are  not  to  open  it  until  you  have 
been  travelling  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

Then  came  the  good-byes,  and — off. 

She  had  been  travelling  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
when  she  opened  the  envelope.  There  was  a  brief, 
hearty,  loving  note  inside,  in  her  uncle's  hand-writing, 
expressing  the  joy  her  visit  had  given  him,  and  his  sense 
of  loneliness  at  her  going,  and  saying: 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  113 

"Please,  dear  Madge,  accept  the  enclosure  in  second 
envelope,  as  a  souvenir  of  your  visit,  from  your  affec- 
tionate 

"NUNKUMS." 

She  opened  the  smaller  envelope.  To  her  breathless 
amazement,  she  found  a  Bank  of  England  note  for 
i  1,000.  When  she  recovered  herself  a  little,  a  smile 
filled  her  eyes  as  she  murmured: 

''Fancy  an  American  Methodist  pastor's  wife  with  a 
thousand  pounds  of  her  own !     My !" 

The  train  was  rushing  on;  she  remembered  that  she 
had  a  special  letter  to  write.  She  opened  her  bag  and 
took  out  writing  materials.  The  carriage  rocked  tre- 
mendously, but  she  managed  to  pen  her  letter.  Before 
she  finally  enclosed  the  letter  in  an  envelope,  she  took 
from  her  purse  a  two-inch  cutting  from  the  columns  of 
some  newspaper  or  magazine.  This  she  placed  in  the 
letter. 


Tom  Hammond  had  just  settled  himself  down  to 
work  when  a  letter,  bearing  the  Southampton  post-mark, 
was  delivered  to  him.  Opening  it,  and  reading  "My 
dear  Mr.  Hammond,"  he  turned  next  to  the  signature. 
"Madge  Finisterre?"  he  cried  softly,  surprisedly,  under 
his  breath.  Wonderingly  he  turned  back  to  the  first 
page,  and  read: 

"You  will  be  surprised  to  know  that  when  you  receive 
this  I  shall  be  steaming  down  Channel  en  route  for 
New  York.  I  got  letters  from  home  this  morning  that 
made  it  imperative  that  I  should  start  at  once. 

"I  cannot  leave  without  thanking  you  for  all  your 
kindness  to  me.     It  has  been  a  pleasure  to  have  known 


114  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

you,  and  I  sincerely  hope  that  we  may  meet  again 
some  day. 

"Now  I  am  going  to  take  you  right  into  my  con- 
fidence, Mr.  Hammond,  for  who  so  discreet  as  a  'pro- 
phet?'— vide  'The  Courier.' 

"Yesterday  evening,  after  dinner,  I  had  a  long  talk 
alone  with  myself.  I  had  had  a  very  pleasant  tete-a-tete 
tea  with  a  friend — perhaps  you  may  remember  this, — 
and  while  I  went  over  in  mind  many  things  in  connec- 
tion with  that  tete-a-tete,  especially  the  events  imme- 
diately preceding  the  interruption,  I  suddenly  realized  a 
sense  of  longing  for  home. 

"A  night  or  two  before  I  sailed  from  America,  our 
pastor  asked  me  to  be  his  wife.  He  was  awfully  in 
earnest,  poor  fellow ;  and  I  could  see  how  love  for  me — 
gay,  frivolous  little  me — was  consuming  him.  I  was 
startled  at  the  proposition,  and  told  him  frankly  that 
I  did  not  know  my  own  mind,  but  that  if  ever  I  found 
out  that  I  loved  him,  I  would  come  right  away  and  tell 
him  so.  I  found  out  this  morning,  when  I  heard  that 
he  was  dangerously  sick,  that  I  wanted  him  as  much 
as  ever  he  wanted  me.  At  this  stage  of  the  letter,  please 
read  the  cutting  enclosed." 

Wondering  what  the  clipping  could  have  to  do  with 
the  subject,  Tom  Hammond  laid  down  the  letter  and 
read  the  cutting: 

"A  king  had  a  son  born  to  him  in  his  old  age,  and 
was  warned  by  his  astrologers  and  physicians,  that  his 
son  would  be  blind  if  he  ever  saw  the  light  before  he 
was  twelve  years  old.  Accordingly  the  king  built  for 
him  a  subterranean  chamber,  where  he  was  kept  till  he 
was  past  the  fatal  age.  Thereupon  he  was  taken  out 
from  his  retreat,  and  shown  all  the  beauties  of  the  world, 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  115 

gold  and  jewels  and  arms,  and  carriages  and  horses,  and 
beautiful  dresses.  But  seeing  some  women  pass,  he 
asked  what  they  might  be,  and  was  told,  'Demons,  who 
lead  men  astray.'  Afterwards  the  king  asked  him  which 
of  all  the  beautiful  things  he  had  seen  he  desired  most, 
and  the  prince  answered,  *'The  demons  which  lead  men 
astray." 

''I  am  going  back  to  be  demon  to  my  pastor,"  the 
letter  went  on,  "to  lead  him — not  astray,  I  trust,  but 
back  to  health.  Please  keep  all  this  in  absolute  confi- 
dence, for  I  have  not  given  even  a  hint  of  it  to  my  uncle. 
Whenever  you  visit  the  States,  be  sure  to  come  and  visit 
me,  for  no  one  will  be  more  welcome  from  the  Old  Coun- 
try than  yourself. 

'*By-the-bye,  dear  friend,  apropos  of  your  remark 
anent  the  presence  of  a  woman  to  make  tea  for  you, 
keep  the  subject  well  before  yourself,  and  when  you 
see  the  lady  who  can  really  satisfy  all  your  ideals,  pro- 
pose quickly,  secure  her,  and — happy  thought — do  Amer- 
ica by  way  of  a  honeymoon,  and  come  and  see  me. 

*'Yours  most  sincerely, 

''Madge  Finisterre." 

He  smiled  as  he  laid  down  the  letter.  For  a  moment 
all  the  bright,  piquant  personality  of  the  writer  filled 
his  vision.  Then,  with  a  swiftness  and  completeness  that 
was  almost  startling,  her  face  vanished  from  his  mental 
picturing,  and  Zillah  Robart,  in  all  her  radiant  loveliness, 
took  the  place  in  his  thought  and  vision. 

For  a  brief  while  he  was  absorbed  in  his  new  vision. 
The  sudden  entrance  of  Ralph  Bastin  dispelled  his 
dreaming. 

After  a  few  moments'  talk,  Bastin  cried,  quite  excit- 


116  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

edly,  *'I  say,  Tom,  those  pars  of  yours  about  the  Jews 
are  the  talk  of  all  London — our  London,  I  mean,  of 
course." 

Without  breaking  the  confidence  reposed  in  him  by 
Cohen,  Tom  Hammond  told  his  friend  what  he  had 
recently  discovered  as  to  the  Jewish  work  on  the  mater- 
ials for  the  New  Temple. 

''That's  strange,  Tom,"  returned  Bastin.  'T  dropped 
in  now  as  much  as  anything  to  tell  you  that  last  night 
I  met  Dolly  Anstruther — you  remember  her,  don't  you? 
— the  little  Yorkshire  girl  that  was  learning  sculpture 
when  we  were  staying  at  Paris  with  Alontmarte. 

''She  has  just  come  back  from  Italy,  where  she  has 
been  three  years.  She  told  me  how  startled  she  was 
to  hear  from  several  sources  about  this  New  Temple 
business.  She  said  she  visited  a  very  large  studio  in 
Milan,  and  saw  the  most  magnificent  pillar  she  had 
ever  seen.  She  asked  the  great  artist  what  it  was  for, 
and  he  said,  'It  is  a  pillar  for  the  New  Temple  at 
Jerusalem.' 

"In  Rome  she  visited  another  great  studio,  and  there 
she  saw  a  duplicate  of  the  Milan  pillar,  and  was  told 
again,  'Oh,  that  is  a  pillar  for  the  future  Temple  at 
Jerusalem.' 

"In  another  place,  where  the  most  wonderful  brass- 
work  in  the  world  is  turned  out,  she  saw  two  magni- 
ficent gates;  and,  on  inquiring  where  they  were  des- 
tined to  be  hung,  received  the  same  reply,  'In  the  future 
Temple  at  Jerusalem.'  What  does  it  all  mean,  Tom?" 
he  added. 

"That  is  what  I  want  to  find  out,  to  be  perfectly 
sure  of,  Ralph.  My  intelligent  Jew,  of  whom  I  told 
you,  declares  that  the  Messiah  is  coming.    We,  as  Chris- 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  117 

tians — nominal  Christians,  I  mean,  of  course, — same  as 
you  and  I,  Ralph,  don't  profess  anything  more " 

Bastin  searched  his  friend's  face  with  a  sudden  keen- 
ness, but  did  not  interrupt  him  by  asking  him  what  he 
meant. 

"As  nominal  Christians,"  Tom  Hammond  went  on, 
"we  believe  the  Christ  has  already  come.  But  the  ques- 
tion has  been  aroused  in  my  mind  of  late  (suggested  by 
certain  things  that  I  have  not  time  to  go  into  now), 
does  the  Bible  teach  that  Christ  is  coming  again,  and  are 
all  these  strange  movings  among  the  Jews  and  in  the 
politics  of  the  world  so  many  signs  and " 

There  came  an  interruption  at  that  moment.  The  tape 
was  telling  of  the  assassination  of  a  Continental  crowned 
head.  Both  men  became  journalists,  pure  and  simple,  in 
an  instant. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
MAJOR  H ON  ''THE  COMING!" 

TOM  HAMMOND  was  riding  westwards  in  the 
Tube.  It  was  the  morning  after  the  events  nar- 
rated in  the  last  chapter.  He  had  just  bought  from  a 
book-stall  a  volume  of  extracts  from  essays  on  art  in 
all  its  branches.  He  sat  back  in  the  comfortable  seat  of 
the  car  dipping  into  the  book.  Suddenly  an  extract 
arrested  his  attention. 

It  was  evidently  a  description  of  the  Crucifixion,  but 
— most  tantalizing — the  head  of  this  page  was  torn,  he 
could  find  out  nothing  about  the  authorship.  But  the 
extract  interested  him : — 

''Darkness — sooty,  portentous  darkness — shrouds  the 
whole  scene ;  only  above  the  accursed  wood,  as  if  through 
a  horrid  rift  in  the  murky  ceiling,  a  rainy  deluge — 'sleety- 
flaw,  discoloured  water' — streams  down  amain,  spread- 
ing a  grisly,  spectral  light,  even  more  horrible  than 
that  palpable  night.  Already  the  Earth  pants  thick 
and  fast !  The  darkened  Cross  trembles !  The  winds 
are  dropt — the  air  is  stagnant — a  muttering  rumble 
growls  underneath  their  feet,  and  some  of  the  miserable 
crowd  begin  to  fly  down  the  hill.  The  horses  sniff  the 
coming  terror,  and  become  unmanageable  through  fear. 
The  moment  rapidly  approaches,  when,  nearly  torn 
asunder  by  His  own  weight,  fainting  with  loss  of  blood, 
which  now  runs  in  narrower  rivulets  from  His  slit  veins, 
His  temples  and  breast  drowned  in  sweat,  and  His  black 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  119 

tongue  parched  with  the  fiery  death-fever,  Jesus  cried, 
*I  thirst.'     The  deadly  vinegar  is  elevated  to  Him. 

"His  head  sinks,  and  the  sacred  corpse  'swings  sense- 
less on  the  cross.'  A  sheet  of  vermilion  flame  shoots 
sheer  through  the  air  and  vanishes;  the  rocks  of  Carmel 
and  Lebanon  cleave  asunder;  the  sea  rolls  on  high  from 
the  sands  its  black,  weltering  waves.  Earth  yawns,  and 
the  graves  give  up  their  dwellers.  The  dead  and  the 
living  are  mingled  together  in  unnatural  conjunction,  and 
hurry  through  the  Holy  City. 

**New  prodigies  await  them  there.  The  veil  of  the 
Temple — the  unpierceable  veil — is  rent  asunder  from  top 
to  bottom,  and  that  dreaded  recess,  containing  the 
Hebrew  mysteries — the  fatal  ark,  with  the  tables  and 
seven-branched  candelabrum — is  disclosed  by  the  light  of 
unearthly  flames  to  the  God-deserted  multitude." 

''Strange!"  he  mused,  as  his  eyes  stared  into  space,  his 
mind  occupied  with  the  thought  of  the  extract.  "Strange 
how  everything  of  late  seems  to  be  compelling  my  atten- 
tion to  the  Christ — Christ  past,  Christ  future." 

At  that  instant  he  heard  someone  mention  the  name 
of  his  paper.  He  glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  voices. 
Two  gentlemen  were  talking  together.  It  was  evident 
that  his  own  identity  was  utterly  unknown  to  them. 

"You're  right,  you're  right,"  the  second  man  was  say- 
ing. "A  very  clever  fellow,  evidently,  that  editor  of  the 
Courier." 

"You  have  noticed,  of  course,"  the  first  man  went  on, 
"those  striking  paragraphs,  of  late,  about  the  Jews. 
Though,  to  a  keen  student  of  the  subject,  they  show 
a  very  superficial  knowledge ;  still,  it  is  refreshing  to 
find  a  modern  newspaper  editor  writing  like  that  at  all." 

"Yes,"   the   other   said,    "but   it   is   strange   how    few 


120  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

people,  even  Christian  people,  ever  realize  how  inti- 
mately the  future  of  the  Jewish  race  is  bound  up  with 
that  other  shamefully  neglected  truth — the  coming  of 
the  Lord  for  His  Church.  I  wish  the  editor  of  the 
Courier,    and    every    other   newspaper    editor,    could   be 

induced   to   go   this   afternoon   and   hear   Major   H 

speak  on  these  things  at  the  Room." 

"British  Museum!"  called  the  conductor  of  the  car. 
The  two  talkers  got  out.  Tom  Hammond  also  alighted. 
As  he  mounted  in  the  lift  to  the  street,  he  decided  that 
he  would  hear  this  major  on  the  subject  that  was  occupy- 
ing his  own  perplexed  thought  so  much. 

Three  o'clock  that  afternoon  found  him  one  of  a  con- 
gregation of  three  to  four  hundred  persons  in  the  

Room.  He  was  amazed  at  the  quality  of  the  audience. 
He  recognized  quite  a  dozen  well-known  London  clergy- 
men and  ministers,  with  a  score  of  other  equally  well- 
known  laymen — literary  men,  merchants,  etc.  All  were 
of  a  superior  class.  There  was  a  large  sprinkling  of 
ladies,  who,  in  many  cases,  were  evidently  sisters.  Unac- 
customed to  such  meetings,  Tom  Hammond  did  not 
know  how  enormous  is  the  number  of  Christian  women 
who  are  to  be  found  at  special  religious  gatherings, 
conventions,  etc. 

There  was  a  subdued  hum  of  whispering  voices  in 
the  place.  The  hum  suddenly  ceased.  Tom  Hammond 
glanced  quickly  towards  the  platform.  Half-a-dozen 
gentlemen  and  one  or  two  ladies  were  taking  their  seats 
there.     They  bowed  their  heads  in  silent  prayer. 

A  minute  later  a  tall,  fine  looking  man,  the  centre 
one  of  the  platform  group,  rose  to  his  feet  and  advanced 
to  the  rail.  He  held  a  hymn-book  in  his  hand.  His 
keen  eyes  swept  the  faces  of  the  gathered  people.     Then 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  121 

in  a  clear,  ringing  voice  like  the  voice  of  a  military  officer 
on  the  battle-field,  he  cried: 

''Number  three-twenty-four.  Let  every  voice  ring  out 
in  song." 

Tom  Hammond  opened  the  linen-covered  book  that 
had  been  handed  to  him  as  he  entered,  and  was  almost 
startled  to  note  the  likeness  of  the  sentiment  of  the 
hymn  to  the  poem  of  B.  M.,  which  had  struck  him 
so  forcibly  that  night  in  his  office. 

The  major  gave  out  the  first  verse : 

"It  may  be  at  morn,  when  the  day  is  awaking. 
When  sunlight  thro'  darkness  and  shadow  is  breaking, 
That  Jesus  will  come  in  the  fulness  of  glory, 
To  take  out  of  the  world  'His  own.' " 

The  major  paused  a  moment  to  interpolate,  "Let  the 
gladness  of  the  thought  ring  out  in  your  voices  as  you 
sing,  but  especially  in  the  chorus." 

"O  Lord  Jesus,  how  long? 
How  long  ere  we  shout  the  glad  song 
Christ   returneth !     Hallelujah! 
Hallelujah  !     Amen !" 

The  singing  of  that  hymn  was  a  revelation  to  Tom 
Hammond.  He  had  heard  hearty,  ringing,  triumphant 
song  at  Handel  festivals,  etc.,  but  among  the  rank  and 
file,  so  to  speak,  of  Christians  he  had  never  heard  any- 
thing like  the  singing  of  that  verse  and  chorus. 

A  hundred  thoughts  and  conflicting  emotions  filled 
him  as  he  realized,  as  the  hymn  went  on,  that  these 
people  w^ere  really  inspired  by  the  glorious  hope  of  the 
return  of  the  Christ.  Once  he  shuddered  as  the  thought 
presented  itself  to  his  mind, 

"How  should  /  fare  if  this  Christ  came  suddenly — 
came  now?" 


122  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

Twice  over  the  last  verse  was  sung,  the  quiet  rap- 
ture of  the  singers  being  doubly  accentuated  as  the  glor- 
ious words  rang  out: 

"Oh,  joy!  oh,  delight!  should  we  go  without  dying! 
No  sickness,  no  sadness,  no  dread,  and  no  crying; 
Caught  up  through  the  clouds  with  our  Lord  into  glory, 
When  Jesus  receives  'His  own.'  " 

With  the  last-sung  note  the  voice  of  the  Major  rang 
out  again: 

''General  Sir  R.  P. will  lead  us  in  prayer." 

The  hush  that  followed  was  of  the  tensest.  It  lasted 
a  full  half-minute,  then  the  old  general's  voice  led  in 
a  prayer  such  as  Tom  Hammond  had  never  even  con- 
ceived possible  to  human  lips,  and  such  as,  certainly,  he 
had  never  heard  before.  It  awed  him,  and  at  the  same 
time  revealed  to  him  that  real  Christianity  was  some- 
thing which  he,  with  all  his  knowledge  of  men  and 
things,  had  never  before  come  in  contact  with. 

The  prayer  concluded,  not  a  moment  was  wasted. 
In  his  clear,  ringing  tones,  the  major  began: 

"Turn  with  me,  if  you  will,  dear  friends,  to  the  first 
chapter  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and  the  eleventh 
verse." 

Tom  Hammond  wished  that  he  had  a  Bible  with  him. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  the  only  person  there 
without  one.  In  an  instant  every  Bible  was  opened  at 
the  passage  named.  There  was  no  searching,  no  fumb- 
ling.    This  was  another  revelation  to  him. 

"They  know  their  Bibles,"  he  mused,  "better  than  I 
do  my  dictionary  or  encyclopaedia." 

But  his  attention  was  suddenly  riveted  on  the  major, 
who,  pocket  Bible  in  hand,  was  saying; 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  123 

"Suffer  me,  friends,  to  change  one  word  in  my  read- 
ing, that  the  truth  may  come  home  clearer  to  our  hearts. 
'Ye  men  of  London,  .  .  .  This  same  Jesus  which  is  taken 
up  from  you  into  heaven  shall  so  come  in  like  manner 
as  ye  have  seen  Him  go  into  heaven/  " 

He  paused  for  one  instant,  then  went  on :  "The  second 
coming  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  is,  I 
believe,  the  central  truth  of  real,  true  Christianity  at 
this  moment,  and  it  should  be  carefully,  diligently  studied 
by  every  converted  soul.  It  should  be  comprehended 
as  far  as  Scripture  reveals  it,  and  so  apprehended  that 
we  should  live  in  daily,  hourly  expectancy  of  that  return. 
Moody,  the  great  evangelist,  to  whom  the  whole  subject 
(as  he  tells  us)  was  once  most  objectionable,  upon 
studying  the  Word  of  God  for  himself,  in  this  connection, 
was  so  profoundly  impressed  with  the  insistence  with 
which  the  return  of  the  Lord  was  emphasized,  that  he 
was  compelled  to  believe  in  it,  and  to  preach  it,  saying, 
'It  is  almost  the  most  precious  truth  of  all  the  Bible. 
Why,  one  verse  in  thirteen  throughout  the  New  Testa- 
ment is  said  to  allude  to  this  wondrous  subject  in  some 
form  or  another.' 

"Many  of  you  who  are  present  this  afternoon  are  not 
only  conversant  with  this  glorious  matter,  but  are  living 
in  the  glad  expectancy  of  the  return  of  your  Lord.  But 
there  are  sure  to  be  some  here  to-day  to  whom  the 
whole  subject  is  foreign,  and  to  you — even  if  there  be 
only  one  such — I  shall  speak  as  plainly,  frankly,  simply, 
yearningly,  as  though  we  were  tete-a-tete. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  ADDRESS. 

**XT  OW  to  begin.  Even  in  the  Church  of  God  there 
ll  are  whole  multitudes  to  whom  the  very  title  of 
this  afternoon's  address  is  but  jargon.  They  will  not 
search  the  Word  for  it,  they  will  barely  tolerate  its 
mention.  Why?  'Oh,'  say  some,  'hidden  things  are  not 
to  be  searched  into.'  Others  there  are  who  spiritualize 
every  reference  to  the  Lord's  second  coming,  and  say, 
*Yes,  of  course,  He  has  come  again,  He  has  come  into 
my  heart,  or  how  else  could  I  have  become  a  child 
of  God.' 

''To  these  last,  these  dreamers,  we  would  respectfully 
say,  'A  coming  into  the  air  for  His  people,  to  take  them 
up,  is  a  totally  different  thing  to  coming  into  the  heart 
to  indwell  as  Saviour  and  Keeper  while  we  are  travelling 
life's  pathway.' 

"There  is  another  section  of  the  Christian  Church 
who  say,  'We  do  not  want  to  hear  anything  about  it. 
Our  minister  don't  hold  with  it;  it  is  not  a  doctrine  of 
our  church.'  Now,  such  an  argument  as  this  is  blasphem- 
ous, since,  if  God  has  put  it  into  His  W^ord,  it  is  blas- 
phemy to  ignore  it,  to  refuse  to  believe  it. 

"Two  distinct  advents  are  plainly  taught  in  Scrip- 
ture. The  first,  of  Jesus'  birth  as  a  Babe  in  Bethlehem, 
the  second  as  'Son  of  ]\Ian' — glorified,  who  shall  come 
in  the  clouds.  Now,  every  Christian  will  admit,  nay, 
more,  the  very  worldling  admits  the  fact  that  every 
Scripture  relating  to  the  first  advent,  as  to  time,  place, 
circumstances,  was  literally  fulfilled,  even  to  the  minutest 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  125 

detail.  Then,  in  the  name  of  common-sense,  with  the 
same  covenant  Scriptures  in  our  hands,  why  should  we 
not  expect  to  see  the  predictions  relating  to  the  second 
advent  also  fulfilled  to  the  very  letter? 

"We  have  our  Lord's  own  definite  promise  in  John 
fourteen:  *If  I  go,  I  will  come  again  and  receive  you 
unto  Myself.'  We  are  all  agreed  that  He  went.  Well, 
in  the  same  breath  He  said,  'I  will  come  again.'  Can 
any  English  be  plainer — 'And  receive  you  unto  Myself?' 
That  promise  cannot  allude  to  conversion,  and  it  cer- 
tainly cannot  allude  to  death,  for  death  is  a  going  to  Him 
— if  we  are  saved. 

"This  expectancy  of  Christ's  return  for  His  people 
was  the  only  hope  of  the  early  Church ;  and  over  and 
over  again,  in  a  variety  of  ways  in  the  epistles  it  is 
shown  to  be  the  only  hope  of  the  Church,  until  that 
Church  is  taken  out  of  the  world,  as  a  bride  is  taken  by 
the  bridegroom  from  her  old  home,  to  dwell  henceforth 
in  his.  There  never  has  been  any  comfort  to  bereaved 
ones  in  the  thought  of  death,  nor  to  any  one  of  us  who 
are  living  is  there  any  comfort  in  the  contemplation  of 
death,  save  and  except,  of  course,  the  thought  of  relief 
from  weariness  and  suffering,  and  in  being  translated  to 
a  painless  sphere,  to  be  with  Christ.  But  in  the  con- 
templation of  the  coming  of  Christ,  when  the  dead  in 
Christ  shall  rise,  and  those  who  are  in  Christ,  who  are 
still  living  when  He  comes,  there  is  the  certainty  of  the 
gladdest  meeting  when  all  are  'caught  up  together  in 
the  air,  to  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord.'  No  waiting  until 
the  end  of  the  world  but,  if  He  came  this  afternoon — 
and  this  may  happen — you  who  have  loved  ones  with 
Christ  would  that  very  instant  meet  them  in  the  air, 
with  your  Lord." 


126  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

Tom  Hammond  listened  intently  to  every  word  of  the 
major's,  and,  as  Scripture  after  Scripture  was  referred 
to,  he  saw  how  the  speaker's  statements  were  all  verified 
by  the  Word  of  God. 

"There  are  two  points  I  would  emphasize  here,"  the 
major  went  on.  'Tirst,  that  we  must  not  confuse  the 
second  coming  of  the  Lord — the  coming  in  the  air — 
for  His  saints,  with  that  later  coming,  probably  seven 
years  after,  when  He  shall  come  with  His  saints  to  reign. 

''And,  secondly,  to  those  to  whom  this  whole  subject 
may  be  new,  I  would  say,  you  must  not  confuse  the 
second  coming  of  our  Lord  with  the  end  of  the  world. 
The  uninstructed,  inexperienced  child  of  God  feels  a 
quaking  of  heart  at  all  talk  of  such  a  coming. 

"Such  people  shrink  from  the  suddenness  of  it.  They 
say  that  there  is  no  preparatory  sign  to  warn  us  of  that 
coming.    But  that  is  not  true. 

"The  Word  of  God  gives  many  instructions  as  to 
the  signs  of  Christ's  near  return,  and  the  hour  we  live 
in  shows  us  these  signs  on  every  hand,  so  that  it  is  only 
those  who  are  ignorant  of  the  Word  of  God,  or  those 
who  are  carelessly  or  wilfully  blind  to  the  signs  around 
(and  this  applies,  we  grieve  to  say,  as  much  to  ministers 
as  to  people,)  who  fail  to  see  how  near  must  be  the 
moment  of  our  Lord's  return. 

"The  first  sign  of  this  return  is  an  awakening  of 
national  life  among  the  Jews,  that  shall  immediately 
precede  their  return — in  unbelief — to  their  own  land. 
Please  turn  with  me  to  Matthew  twenty-four." 

There  was  again  that  soft  rustle  of  turning  leaves 
that  had  struck  Tom  Hammond  as  so  remarkable. 
Someone  behind  him,  at  the  same  instant,  passed  a  Bible, 
open  at  the  reference,  to  him  over  his  shoulder.    With  a 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  127 

grateful  glance  and  a  murmured  word  of  thanks,  he 
accepted  the  loan  of  the  book. 

"T  will  read  a  verse  or  two  here  and  there,"  the  major 
announced.  ''You  who  know  your  Bibles,  friends,  will 
readily  recall  the  subject-matter  of  the  previous  chapter, 
and  how  our  Lord  after  His  terrible  prediction  upon 
Jerusalem,  added,  'Behold,  your  house  is  left  unto  you 
desolate.  For  I  say  unto  you,  Ye  shall  not  see  Me 
henceforth,  till  ye  shall  say.  Blessed  is  He  that  cometh 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord.' 

"This  is  Jewish,  of  course,  but  the  whole  matter  of 
the  future  of  the  Jews  and  of  the  return  of  the  Lord 
for  His  Church,  and,  later  on,  with  His  Church,  are 
bound  up  together.  Presently,  after  uttering  His  last 
prediction,  the  disciples  came  to  Him  privately,  saying, 

"  'Tell  us,  when  shall  these  things  be  ?  and  what  shall 
be  the  sign  of  Thy  coming,  and  of  the  end  of  the 
world?" 

"Keep  your  Bibles  open  where  you  now  have  them, 
friends,  and  note  this — that  the  two-fold  answer  of 
our  Lord's  is  in  the  reverse  order  to  the  disciples'  ques- 
tion. In  verses  four  and  five  He  points  out  what  should 
not  be  the  sign  of  His  coming.  While,  in  verse  six,  He 
shows  what  should  not  be  the  sign  of  the  end  of  the 
world.  With  these  distinctions  I  shall  have  more  to  say 
another  day. 

"This  afternoon  I  want  to  keep  close  to  the  signs 
of  the  coming  of  the  Lord.  Read  then  the  thirty-second 
and  third  verses :  'Now  learn  a  parable  of  the  fig-tree : 
when  its  branch  is  yet  tender,  and  putteth  forth  leaves, 
ye  know  that  summer  is  nigh :  so  likewise  ye,  when  ye 
shall  see  all  these  things,  know  that' — look  in  the  margins 
of  your  Bible,  please,  and  note  that  the  'it'  of  the  text 


128  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

becomes  'He,'  which  is  certainly  the  only  wise  trans- 
lation— 'when  ye  shall  see  all  these  things,  know  that  He 
is  near,  even  at  your  doors.' 

"Now,  I  hardly  need  remind  the  bulk  of  you,  friends, 
gathered  here  this  afternoon,  that  the  figtree,  in  the 
Gospels,  represents  Israel.  The  Bible  uses  three  trees 
to  represent  Israel  at  different  periods  of  her  history, 
and  in  different  aspects  of  her  responsibility. 

"The  Old  Testament  uses  the  vine  as  the  symbol  of 
Israel,  the  Gospels  the  fig,  and  the  Epistles  the  olive. 
At  your  leisure,  friends,  if  you  have  never  studied  this, 
do  so.  You  will  not  be  puzzled  much  over  the  blasting 
of  the  barren  fig-tree  when  you  have  made  a  study  of 
the  whole  of  this  subject,  because  you  will  see  that  it 
was  parabolic  of  God's  judgment  on  the  unfruitful  Jew- 
ish race. 

"Now,  with  this  key  of  interpretation  before  us,  how 
pointed  becomes  this  first  sign  of  the  return  of  our  Lord. 
'When,'  He  says,  'the  fig-tree  putteth  forth  her  leaves' 
— when  the  Jewish  nation  shows  signs  of  a  revival  of 
national  life  and  vitality, — 'then  know  that  the  coming  of 
the  Lord  draweth  nigh.' 

"The  careful  reader  of  the  daily  press,  even  though 
not  a  Christian,  ought  to  have  long  ago  been  awakened 
to  the  startling  fact  that,  after  thousands  of  years,  the 
national  life  of  Israel  is  awakening.  The  Jew  is  return- 
ing to  his  own  land — Palestine. 

"Only  a  year  or  two  ago  the  world  was  electrified  by 
hearing  of  the  formation  of  that  wonde'rful  Zionist 
movement.  How  it  has  spread  and  grown!  And  how, 
ever  since,  the  increasing  thousands  have  been  flocking 
back  to  Palestine !  There  are  now  nearly  three  times  the 
number  of   Jews   in   and  around  Jerusalem,   that  there 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  129 

were  after  the  return  from  the  Babylonish  captivity. 
Agricultural  settlements  are  extending  all  over  the  land. 
Vineyards  and  olive-grounds  are  springing  up  every- 
where. 

"Now  note  a  remarkable  fulfilment  of  prophecy.  Turn 
to  Isaiah  xvii.  10,  11:  Therefore  shalt  thou  plant  pleas- 
ant plants,  and  shalt  set  it  with  strange  slips.  In  the 
day  thou  shalt  make  thy  plant  to  grow,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing shalt  thou  make  thy  seed  to  flourish ;  but  the  harvest 
shall  be  a  heap  in  the  day  of  grief  and  of  desperate 
sorrow.' 

"In  the  early  months  of  eighteen-ninety-four  the  Jews 
ordered  two  million  vine-slips  from  America,  which  they 
planted  in  Palestine.  There  is  the  fulfillment  of  the  first 
part  of  that  prophecy,  and  if  we  are  justified  in  believ- 
ing, as  we  think  we  are,  that  the  return  of  the  Lord  is 
imminent,  then,  as  the  tribulation  will  doubtless  imme- 
diately follow  that  return,  and  of  the  taking  out  of  the 
Church  from  the  world,  then  the  great  gathering  in  of 
the  harvest  of  those  vines  will  be  in  'the  day  of  grief  and 
of  desperate  sorrow.' 

"Now,  let  me  read  to  you,  friends,  an  extract  from 
the  testimony  of  an  expert,  long  resident  in  Palestine: 

"  'There  is  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt,'  he  writes, 
'as  to  the  entire  changing  of  the  climate  of  the  land 
here  (Palestine.)  The  former  and  latter  rains  are  becom- 
ing the  regular  order  of  the  seasons,  and  this  is  doubt- 
less due  (physically,  I  mean)  to  the  fact  that  the  new 
colonists  are  planting  trees  everywhere  where  they  settle. 
The  land,  for  thousands  of  years,  has  been  denuded  of 
trees,  so  that  there  was  nothing  to  attract  the  clouds,  etc. 

"  'Comparing  the  rainfall  for  the  last  five  years,  I 
find  that  there  has  been  about  as  much  rain  in  April  as 


130  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

in  March;  whereas,  comparing  five  earHer  years,  from 
1880-85,  I  find  that  the  rainfall  in  April  was  consider- 
ably less  than  in  March,  and  if  we  go  back  farther  still, 
we  find  that  rain  in  April  was  almost  unknown. 

"  'Thus  God  is  preparing  the  land  for  the  people.  The 
people,  too,  are  being  prepared  for  the  land.  The  day 
is  fast  approaching  when  'the  Lord  will  arise  and  have 
mercy  upon  Zion.' 

"I  need  hardly,  I  think,  tell  you  what  even  the  secular 
press  has  been  giving  some  most  striking  articles  about 
quite  recently, — namely,  the  quiet  preparation  on  the 
part  of  the  Jews  of  everything  for  the  rebuilding  of  the 
temple  at  Jerusalem. 

'T  see,  by  the  lighting  up  of  your  faces,  that  you 
are  familiar  with  the  fact  that  gates,  pillars,  marbles, 
ornaments,  and  all  else  requisite  for  the  immediate  build- 
ing of  the  new  temple  are  practically  complete,  and  only 
await  the  evacuation  of  the  hideous  Mohamedan,  with  all 
his  abominations,  from  Jerusalem,  to  be  hurried  to  the 
site  of  the  old  temple,  and  to  be  reared,  a  new  temple 
to  Jehovah,  by  the  Jew.  Any  day,  Turkey — 'the  sick 
man  of.  the  East' — in  desperate  straits  for  money,  may 
sell  Palestine  to  the  Jews. 

"The  Jews  are  to  return  to  their  land  in  unbelief  of 
Christ  being  the  Messiah.  They  will  build  their  temple, 
reorganize  the  old  elaborate  services,  the  lamb  will  be 
slain  again  'between  the  two  evenings,'  and — but  all  else 
of  this  time  belongs  to  another  address.  What  we  have 
to  see  this  afternoon  is  that  the  fig-tree — the  Jewish 
nation — is  budding,  and  to  hear  Jesus  Christ  saying  to 
us,  'When  ye  see  all  these  things,  know  that  He  is  near, 
even  at  the  doors.' 

"Another  sign  of  the  return  of  our  Lord  is  to  be  the 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  131 

world-wide  preaching  of  the  Gospel.  Now,  in  this  con- 
nection, let  me  give  a  word  of  correction  of  a  common 
error  on  this  point. 

'The  Bible  nowhere  gives  a  hint  that  the  world  is  to 
be  converted  before  the  return  of  the  Lord  for  His 
Church.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  world — the  times — are 
to  grow  worse  and  worse ;  more  polished,  more  cultured, 
cleverer,  better  educated,  yet  grosser  in  soul,  falser  in 
worship.  The  bulk  of  the  Church  shall  have  the  form 
of  godliness,  but  deny  the  power. 

"Men  shall  be  'lovers  of  their  own  selves' — who  can 
deny  that  selfishness  is  not  a  crowning  sin  of  this  age? 
— 'covetous' — look  at  the  heaping  up  of  riches,  at  the 
cost  of  the  peace,  the  honour,  the  very  blood  of  others, 
— 'incontinent' — the  increase  in  our  divorce  court  cases 
is  alarming,  disgusting, — 'lovers  of  pleasure' — the  whole 
nation  has  run  mad  on  pleasures. 

"I  need  not  enlarge  further  on  this  side  of  the  sub- 
ject, save  to  repeat  that  the  Word  of  God  is  most  plain 
and  emphatic  on  this  point,  that  the  return  of  our  Lord 
is  to  be  marked  by  a  fearful  declension  from  vital  godli- 
ness. But,  with  all  this,  there  is  to  be  a  world-wide 
proclamation  of  the  truth  of  salvation  in  Jesus.  Not 
necessarily  that  every  individual  soul  shall  hear  it,  but 
that  all  nations,  etc.,  shall  have  it  preached  to  them. 

"Now,  in  this  connection,  let  me  mention  a  fact  that 
has  deeply  impressed  me.  It  is  this,  that  the  greatest 
reawakening  in  the  hearts  of  individual  Christians  in  all 
the  churches — England,  America,  the  Colonies — as  testi- 
fied to  by  all  concerned,  agrees,  in  time,  with  the  awaken- 
ing of  the  Church  of  Christ  to  the  special  need  of  inter- 
cession for  foreign  missions — ^namely,  from  1873-75. 

"I  must  close  for  this  afternoon,  lest  I  weary  you. 


132  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

We  will,  God  willing,  come  together  again  here  on 
Tuesday  at  the  same  hour,  and  I  pray  you  all  to  be 
much  in  prayer  for  blessing  on  the  attempt  to  open  up 
these  wondrous  truths,  and  pray  also  that  the  right 
kind  of  people  may  be  gathered  in.  Will  you  all  work 
for  this,  as  well  as  pray  for  it?  Invite  people  to  the 
meetings. 

"Do  either  of  you  know  any  editors  of  a  daily  paper? 
If  so,  write  to  such,  draw  attention  to  these  exposi- 
tions, urge  your  editors  to  come.  Oh,  if  only  we  could 
capture  the  daily  press !  What  an  extended  pulpit,  what 
a  far-reaching  voice  would  our  subject  immediately 
possess ! 

"1  don't  quite  know  how  far  I  ought  to  go  on  this  line, 
but  even  as  I  speak,  it  comes  to  me  to  ask  you  if  any 
one  here  present  is  acquainted  with  the  evidently-gifted, 
open-minded  editor  of  'The  Courier.'  We  have  all,  of 
course,  been  struck  by  his  own  utterances  from  the 
'Prophet's  Chamber'  column.  Oh  that  he  could  be  cap- 
tured for  Christ;  then  his  paper  would  doubtless  be  a 
clarion  for  his  Lord!" 

Tom  Hammond  turned  hot  and  cold.  He  trusted 
that  no  one  had  recognized  him.  He  would  be  glad  to 
get  away  unrecognized.  Yet  he  was  not  offended  by 
the  speaker's  personal  allusion  to  him.  He  felt  that  the 
major's  soul  rang  true. 

"Before  I  close,"  the  major  went  on,  "suffer  me  to 
read  an  extract  from  the  'Gentleman's  Magazine,'  of 
the  year  seventeen  hundred  and  fifty-nine : 

"  'Mr.  Urban, — Reading  over  chapter  eleven,  verse 
two,  of  Revelation,  a  thought  came  to  me  that  I  had  hit 
upon  the  meaning  of  it  which  I  desire  you'll  publish  in 
one  of  your   future  magazines.     The  verse   runs  thus: 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  133 

''But  the  court  which  is  without  the  temple  leave  out,  and 
measure  it  not,  for  it  is  given  to  the  Gentiles,  and  the 
holy  city  shall  they  tread  under  foot  forty  and  two 
months." 

"  'Now,  according  to  the  Scriptural  way  of  putting  a 
day  for  a  year,  if  we  multiply  forty-two  months  by 
thirty  (the  number  of  days  contained  in  a  Jewish  month,) 
we  have  the  time  the  Turks  will  reign  over  the  Jews' 
country,  and  the  city  of  Jerusalem — viz.,  1,260;  which, 
if  we  add  to  the  year  of  our  Lord  636,  when  Jerusalem 
was  taken  by  the  Turks,  we  have  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1896,  near  or  about  which  time  the  Jews  will  be  rein- 
stated in  their  own  country  and  city,  Jerusalem,  again, 
w^hich  will  be  about  137  years  hence;  and  that  the  Turks 
are  the  Gentiles  mentioned  in  the  above-quoted  chapter 
and  verse  appears  from  their  having  that  country  and 
city  in  possession  about  1,123  years,  and  will  continue 
to  possess  it  till  the  Omnipotent  God,  in  His  own  time, 
bringeth  this  prophecy  to  its  full  period.' 

"This  letter  is  signed  'M.  Forster,'  and  is  dated  from 
'Bessborough,  October  24th,  1759.'  I  have  very  little 
sympathy  with  those  of  our  brethren  who  are  ever  vent- 
ing in  speech  and  in  print  the  exact  dates  (as  they 
declare)  of  the  coming  events  surrounding  the  return  of 
our  Lord,  but  I  do  beHeve  (in  spite  of  the  somewhat 
hazy  chronology  at  our  command)  that  the  regarding 
of  approximate  times  is  perfectly  permissible,  and  the 
letter  I  have  read  you  has  some  value  when,  taking  dates, 
etc.,  approximately,  we  remember  that  this  letter  was 
written  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  and  that 
1896  was  memorable  for  a  distinct  movement  towards 
the  Holy  Land. 

"So,  I  say,   'the  coming  of  the  Lord  draweth  nigh. 


134  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

To  myself  and  to  every  Christian  here,  I  would  say, 
'May  God  help  us  to  quicken  all  our  hearts,  and  purify 
all  our  lives,  that  we  may  not  be  ashamed  at  His  coming.' 

"And  to  any  who  are  here  (if  such  there  be)  who 
are  not  converted,  may  God  help  you  to  seek  His  face, 
that  you  may  not  be  'left,'  when  He  shall  suddenly, 
silently  snatch  away  His  Church  out  of  this  godless 
generation.   'Left!' 

"Think  of  what  that  will  mean,  unsaved  friend,  if 
you  are  here  to-day.  Left!  Left  behind!  When  the 
Spirit  of  God  will  have  been  taken  out  of  the  earth. 
When  Satan  will  dwell  on  the  earth — for,  with  the 
coming  of  Christ  into  the  air,  Satan,  'the  prince  of  the 
power  of  the  air,'  will  have  to  descend. 

"Christ  and  Satan  can  never  live  in  the  same  realm. 
Oh,  God,  save  anyone  here  from  being  left — left  behind, 
to  come  upon  the  unspeakable  judgments  which  will 
follow  the  taking  out  of  the  world  of  the  Church! 


"Some  husband,  whose  head  was  laid  on  his  bed, 

Throbbing  with  mad  excess, 
Awakes  from  that  dream  by  the  lightning  gleam, 
Alone  in  his  last  distress. 

"For  the  patient  wife,  who  through  each  day's  life, 
Watched  and  wept  for  his  soul, 
Is  taken  away,  and  no  more  shall  pray. 
For  the  judgment  thunders  roll. 

"And  that  thoughtless  fair  who  breathed  no  prayer. 
Oft  as  her  husband  knelt, 
Shall  find  he  is  fled,  and  start   from  her  bed 
To  feel  as  never  she  felt. 

"The  children  of  day  are  summoned  away; 
Left  are  the  children  of  night. 

Tt  is  high  time  for  us  all  to  awake.     God  keep  us 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  135 

awake  and  watching  for  our  Lord,  for  His  precious 
name's  sake.     Amen." 

The  murmured  Amens  rolled  through  the  congre- 
gation Hke  the  deep  surge  of  a  sea  billow  on  a 
shingle  shore. 

''Our  time  has  gone,  friends,"  cried  the  major.  "We 
will  sing  two  verses  only  of  the  closing  hymn  410,  the 
first  and  last  verse.     Sing  straight  away." 

Tom  Hammond,  wondered  at  it  all  much  as  ever,  lis- 
tened while  the  song  rang  out : 

"When  Jesus  comes  to  reward  His  servants, 
Whether  it  be  noon  or  night, 
Faithful  to  Him  will  He  find  us  watching? 
With  our  lamps  all  trimmed  and  bright? 

Chorus. 

Oh,  can  we  say  we  are  ready,  brother? 

Ready  for  the  soul's  bright  home? 
Say,  will  He  find  you  and  me  still  watching, 

Waiting,  waiting,  when  the  Lord  shall  come? 

"Blessed  are  those  whom  the  Lord  finds  watching 
In  His  glory  they  shall  share : 
If  He  shall  come  at  the  dawn  or  midnight. 
Will  He  find  us  watching  there?" 

Again  the  chorus  rang  out,  and  as  Tom  Hammond 
left  the  hall,  the  question  of  it  clung  to  him.  It  forced 
itself  upon  his  brain;  it  groped  about  for  his  heart; 
it  clamoured  to  be  hearkened  to. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
HER  CABIN  COMPANION. 

"r¥l  HERE'LL  be  one  other  lady  with  you  in  your  cabin, 

A    miss." 

The  berth-steward's  announcement  in  no  way  discon- 
certed Aladge  Finisterre.  She  had  had  two  cabin  com- 
panions on  the  outward  voyage. 

She  was  arranging  her  cabin  necessaries  when  her 
fellow-traveller  entered.  She  was  a  wee,  winsome  girl, 
very  fragile  in  appearance,  with  a  yearning  sweetness 
in  her  great  grey  eyes,  such  as  Madge  had  never  seen 
in  any  eyes  before.  With  half-a-dozen  words  of 
exchanged  greeting  and  a  very  warm  handshake,  the 
pair  became  instant  friends. 

By  a  strange  but  happy  coincidence  neither  of  them 
ever  suffered  from  sea-sickness,  and  from  the  first 
moment  of  the  great  liner's  departure  they  became 
inseparable. 

As  the  vessel  forged  her  way  down  Channel  that  even- 
ing, a  glorious  moon  shining  down  upon  them,  the  two 
girls,  arm-in-arm,  paced  the  promenade  deck  talking. 
The  subject  of  the  acute  distress  among  the  poor  and 
out-of-works  in  all  the  world's  great  cities  came  up 
between  them. 

"Oh,  if  only  our  Lord  would  come  quickly !"  cried 
the  girl — Kate  Harland  was  her  name. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Kate?"  Madge's  voice  was  full 
of  amazed  wonder. 

*T  mean  that " 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  137 

The  fragile  girl  paused ;  then,  glancing  quickly  up 
into  Madge's  face,  she  cried : 

"You  love  Jesus,  of  course,  Madge?  You  are  saved, 
dear,  and  looking  for  His  coming?" 

For  an  instant  Madge  was  silent.  Then,  with  a  deep 
sigh,  she  replied : 

**Oh,  me!  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  saved,  as  you  call  it. 
Katie,  dear,  the  fact  is " 

She  halted  in  her  speech.  She  did  not  know  how  to 
put  into  words  all  that  her  friend's  question  had  aroused 
within  her. 

While  she  halted  thus,  the  girl  at  her  side  put  her 
arms  about  her,  clasping  her  with  a  kind  of  yearning 
— an  *T  will  not  let  you  go"  kind  of  clasp — as  she  cried, 
softly : 

''Oh,  my  darling,  you  must  not  lie  down  to-night  until 
you  know  you  are  Christ's.  Then — then — after  that, 
nothing  can  ever  matter.  Come  weal,  come  woe,  come 
life,  come  death,  all  is  well !" 


It  was  past  midnight  before  the  two  girls  climbed 
into  their  berths,  but  by  that  time  Madge  Finisterre 
knew  that  she  had  passed  from  death  into  life. 

Before  the  vessel  reached  New  York  she  had  learned 
something  of  the  truth  of  the  near  return  of  the  Lord. 

On  the  quay,  when  they  landed,  the  two  girls  bade 
each  other  a  sorrowful  farewell, 

"We  shall  meet  in  heaven,  Katie,  if  nevermore  on 
earth,"  sobbed  Madge. 

"In  the  air,  my  darling,"  replied  the  other.  "Do  not 
let  us  lose  sight  of  that.    When  our  Lord  shall  come, 


138  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

'Loved  ones  shall  meet  in  a  joyful  surprise, 
Caught  up  together  to  Him  in  the  skies, 
When  Jesus  shall  come  once  again.' " 

Kate  Harland's  friends,  who  had  travelled  to  meet 
her  from  Denver,  carried  her  off,  and  Madge  took  the 
car  to  the  Central. 

One  hour  later  she  boarded  the  train  and  began  the 
last  lap  of  her  long  journey. 

Her  spirits  rose  higher  every  moment.  She  had  con- 
ceived a  very  bold  idea,  and  she  was  going  to  carry  it 
through  after  her  own  fashion.  She  sent  no  message 
of  warning  of  her  coming,  as  this  would  spoil  her  little 
plot. 

Her  eyes  rested  delightedly  upon  every  place  she 
passed.  At  Garrisons,  where  the  train  waited  a  few 
minutes,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  father  of  the  man 
whom  she  was  hurrying  to  meet. 

The  white-haired  old  father  lived  at  Garrisons,  and 
was  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  like  his  son.  He  was 
leaving  the  depot  as  her  train  pulled  up.  She  easily 
recognized  him,  because  several  times  during  his  son's 
pastorate  at  Balhang  he  had  been  to  see  him,  staying 
a  week  at  a  time,  and  preaching  once  on  the  Sunday  on 
each  occasion. 

At  Duchess  Junction  she  had  to  change  trains.  To 
her  joy,  she  met  no  one  from  Balhang;  there  was  not 
a  soul  at  the  depot  whom  she  even  knew  by  sight. 

Just  before  her  train  reached  Balhang  she  donned  a 
thick  brown  gauze  veil.  No  one  could  see  her  face 
through  this  to  recognize  it.  There  would  be  nothing 
to  detain  her  at  the  depot,  for  her  baggage  was  all 
"expressed." 

The    train    stopped;    she    alighted.       Several    people 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  139 

peered  hard  at  her,  the  depot  manager  especially,  as 
he  took  her  check,  but  no  one  recognized  her.  She 
passed  on.  Twenty  yards  from  the  depot  she  met  Judge 
Anstey. 

She  stopped  him  with  a  "Good  day,  Judge;  can  I 
speak  with  you?" 

''Certainly,  madam,"  the  official  replied  genially. 

"Come  aside,  Judge,"  she  whispered.  "I  don't  want 
anyone  to  recognize  me,  or  to  hear  what  I  am  saying  to 
you,  should  people  pass." 

As  he  moved  on  by  her  side  in  the  direction  she 
wished,  she  whispered: 

"I  have  put  on  this  thick  veil,  Judge,  so  as  not  to  be 
recognized.    I  am  Madge  Finisterre." 

"Du  say!"  he  gasped.  "I  knew  the  voice,  but  could 
not  recall  whose  it  was.  I  hadn't  heard  a  breath  of 
your  coming  home.  Miss  Madge." 

"I  let  no  one,  not  even  mumma  and  poppa,  know  that 
I  was  coming,"  she  replied.    "The  fact  is,  Judge " 

She  was  glad,  as  she  prepared  to  take  him  into  her 
confidence,  that  the  thick  veil  would  hide  the  hot  colour 
that  she  felt  leaped  into  her  face. 

"Momma  wrote  me,"  she  went  on,  "that  the  pastor 
was  very  sick,  and  that  the  doctor  didn't  understand 
his  case.  I  only  got  the  letter  last  Saturday  morning. 
The  boat  was  to  start  that  day  at  two;  but  I  caught 
it,  for  I  knew  that  would  cure  the  pastor." 

She  felt  how  fiercely  the  blushes  burned  in  her  cheeks, 
but,  assured  that  he  could  not  see  them,  she  went  on : 

"Just  before  I  started  for  Europe,  Judge,  pastor  told 
me  he  loved  me,  and  asked  me  to  be  his  wife " 

She  watched  the  amused  amaze  leap  into  the  Judge's 
face,  and  smiled  herself  at  his  low  whistle. 


140  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

''I  told  him,"  she  continued,  "I  could  make  him  no 
definite  promise,  as  I  was  not  quite  sure  of  myself ;  but 
that,  when  I  was,  I  would  not  wait  for  him  to  ask  me 
again — I  would  come  and  tell  him.  I  am  going  straight 
to  him  now.  Judge,  and  I  want  you  to  give  me  a  clear 
quarter  of  an  hour's  start.  While  I  am  gone  to  fix  him 
up  and  to  make  him  happy,  I  want  you  to  go  'long  to 
mumma  and  poppa,  and  bring  them  right  along  with 
you,  and  marry  me  and  pastor  as  soon  as  you  git  up  to 
us.    So-long  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

Without  another  word  she  moved  swiftly  away. 

"She's  tropical!"  he  laughed,  as  he  saw  her  making 
for  Mrs.  Keller's,  where  the  pastor  boarded. 

The  French  windows  of  the  pastor's  sitting-room  were 
open,  for  the  day  was  like  a  spring  one.  Madge  moved 
quickly  across  the  patch  of  grass,  mounted  the  stoop, 
and  peered  in. 

In  a  large  rocker,  looking  very  frail  and  ill,  the 
young  pastor  was  lying  back  with  his  eyes  closed. 

Madge  felt  her  eyes  fill  with  tears.  She  lifted  the 
disguising  veil,  and  wiped  the  salt  drops  away.  She 
did  not  lower  her  veil  again,  but  with  a  little  glad  cry 
of— 

"Homer,  dear  love!"  she  crossed  the  threshold,  and 
dropped  on  her  knees  by  his  side,  flung  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  and  laid  her  hot  lips  to  his. 

It  was  like  a  dream  to  him — a  wondrous,  delicious 
dream.  His  thin  arms  clasped  her.  His  kisses  were 
rained  upon  her,  but  at  first  he  found  no  words  to  say. 
Between  their  passionately-exchanged  kisses  she  poured 
out,  in  rapid,  caress-punctured  speech,  how  she  came  to 
be  there. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  141 

"I  have  not  seen  mumma  or  poppa  yet,"  she  explained ; 
"but  I  met  Judge  Anstey  down  by  the  depot.  I  have 
sent  him  home  for  mumma  and  poppa ;  they  will  be  here 
in  no  time  now.  The  Judge  will  come  with  them,  and  will 
marry  us  right  off,  dear.  For,  say,  you  do  want  some 
nursing." 

He  found  his  voice  at  last,  declared  that  her  coming, 
her  first  kiss,  had  made  him  strong;  that  he  would  need 
no  nursing  now  that  she  had  come.  Getting  on  to  his 
feet,  he  gathered  her  into  his  arms,  and  rained  fresh 
kisses  upon  her  lips,  her  cheeks,  her  brow,  her  eyes. 

She  managed  to  whisper  the  good  news,  'T  have  found 
Jesus,  dear,  or  He  found  me,  and  now " 

A  sound  of  voices  and  of  hurrying  steps  outside 
checked  her.  She  had  only  time  to  tear  herself  from 
his  arms  when  her  mother  and  father  reached  her  side. 

An  hour  later,  when  the  Judge  had  been  and  gone 
again,  Madge  Finisterre  was  the  wife  of  the  pastor. 


CHAPTER  XVIL 
CASTING  A  SHOE. 

IT  was  two  hours  after  midnight  when  Tom  Hammond 
was  free  at  last.  But  he  did  not  go  to  bed.  His  soul 
was  disturbed.  What  he  had  heard  at  the  major's 
meeting  had  stirred  a  myriad  disquieting,  thoughts  within 
him,  and  now  that  he  was  clear  to  do  it,  he  shut  himself 
up  alone  with  a  Bible,  and  began  to  go  over  every  point 
of  the  major's  address.  He  had  taken  copious  notes  in 
shorthand,  paying  especial  attention  to  the  texts  quoted 
and  referred  to. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  he  looked  up  from  his  Bible. 
There  was  a  wondering  amaze  in  his  eyes,  a  strange, 
perplexed  knitting  of  his  brows. 

"It  is  all  most  marvellous !"  he  murmured.  "There 
is  not  a  flaw  or  hitch  anywhere  in  the  major's  state- 
ments or  reasoning.  The  Scriptures  prove,  to  the  hilt, 
every  word  that  he  uttered." 

He  smiled  to  himself  as,  rising  to  his  feet,  he  said 
aloud, 

"I  should  not  sleep  if  I  went  to  bed;  I  will  go  out." 

There  are  ways  of  getting  into  some  of  the  London 
parks  before  the  regulation  hour  for  opening  the  gates. 
Tom  Hammond  had  often  found  a  way  to  forestall  the 
park-opener. 

Ten  minutes  after  leaving  his  chambers  he  was  inside 
the  park  he  loved  best.  Everything  was  eerily  still  and 
silent.  The  calm  suited  his  mood.  He  wanted  to  feel, 
as  well  as  to  be,  absolutely  alone.     He  had  his  desire. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  143 

There  had  been  a  thick  mist  over  London  overnight,  but 
the  atmosphere  was  as  clear  as  a  bell  now.  The  air 
was  as  balmy  as  a  morning  in  May  or  September. 

There  was  a  faint  light  from  the  stars  that  stabbed 
the  deep  violet  sky.  He  moved  slowly,  thoughtfully, 
through  paths  as  familiar  to  him  as  the  rooms  he  occu- 
pied at  home. 

"And  the  Christ  might  come  to-day !"  he  mused.    **As 

Major  H showed  plainly  from  the  Bible,  there  is 

no  other  prophetic  event  to  transpire  before  His  coming." 

Almost  unconsciously  he  paused  in  his  walking. 

''If,"  he  cried  softly,  a  certain  fearsomeness  in  his 
voice,  "if  He  came  to-day,  came  now,  what  about  me? 
Where  should  I  come  in?" 

He  recalled  the  fact  that,  according  to  the  major's 
showing,  he,  Tom  Hammond,  was  quite  unprepared  for 
Christ's  coming,  because  he  was  still  unsaved.  He 
shivered  slightly  as  the  thought  of  his  unpreparedness 
came  to  him. 

With  the  flashing  swiftness  of  one  of  memory's  freaks, 
there  leaped  into  his  mind  some  lines  of  Charles  Wesley's. 
He  had  written  them,  a  day  or  two  before,  in  illustration 
of  a  certain  statement  in  an  article  on  hymnology.  They 
had  not  borne  any  message  to  his  soul  then,  but  now  they 
seemed  like  the  voicing  of  his  own  inmost  thoughts. 

He  walked  slowly  on,  the  words  falling  from  his  Hps 
in  half-uttered  notes. 


"And  am  I  only  born  to  die? 
And  must  I  suddenly  comply 

With  nature's   stern   decree? 
What  after  death  for  me  remains — 
Celestial  joys,  or  bitter  pains, 

To  all  eternity? 


144  IN  THE  TWINKLING   OF  AN  EYE 

"No  room  for  mirth  or  trifling  here, 
For  worldly  hope,  or  worldly  fear, 

If  life  so  soon  is  gone — 
If  now  the  Judge  is  at  the  door, 
And  all  mankind  must  stand  before 

The  inexorable  throne ! 

"Nothing  is  worth  a  thought  beneath. 
But  how  I  may  escape  the  death 

That  never,  never  dies — 
How  make  my  own  election   sure, 
And,  when  I   fail  on  earth,  secure 
A  mansion  in  the  skies." 

"There  was  something  inspiring,  something  helpful, 
in  the  last  verse,"  he  mused,  "but,  for  the  life  of  me, 
I  cannot  recall  it." 

The  piping  note  of  a  robin  from  a  clump  of  bush 
trees  close  by  broke  into  his  reverie.  He  lifted  his 
head  sharply  and  looked  around,  then  upwards.  The 
stars  had  paled  in  the  violet  dome  above  him.  Some- 
where near,  ahead  of  him,  was  a  piece  of  ornamental 
water.    He  caught  a  glimpse  of  it  between  the  trees, 

"Pip-pip!"  came  again  from  the  robin's  throat.  He 
remembered  Charles  Fox,  and  said  softly  aloud: 

"Came   forward  to  be  seen, 
My  little  bright-eyed   fellow. 
And  an  honest  one  as  well  O) 
In  thy  suit  of  olive  green, 
With  red-orange  vest  between. 
And  small  touching  voice  so  mellow." 

The  bird  suddenly  flew  across  his  path,  dropped  upon 
a  low  piece  of  iron  fencing,  glanced  askance  at  him, 
then  darted  to  where  a  morning  meal  peeped  out  of  the 
damp  sod. 

Two  or  three  other  low,  sleepy  bird-notes  followed, 
then  the  water-fowl  began  their  discordant  quacking. 
The  tremulous  flutenotes  of  a  thrush  made  rich  music  on 
the  morning  air. 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  145 

The  stars  faded  out  of  sight.  The  cold  grey  light  of 
dawning  day  moved  into  the  eastern  horizon.  The  smell 
of  the  earth  grew  rank.  The  air  grew  keener.  The 
east  slowly  reddened.  Roofs  and  towers  of  houses  and 
churches  grew  up  slowly,  and  grey  amid  the  cold  light 
of  the  dawn.  He  turned  to  face  the  spot  where  he 
knew  the  great  clock-tower  of  Westminster  could  be 
seen.  A  light  burned  high  aloft  in  the  tower,  telling  that 
England's  legislators  were  still  in  session. 

Slowly,  thoughtfully,  he  turned  back  to  walk  home. 

"If  Christ  came  at  this  instant,"  he  mused,  "how  many 
of  those  Commoners  and  Peers  would  be  ready  to  meet 
Him?  And  what  of  the  teeming  millions  of  this  mighty 
city?    God  help  us  all!    What  bHnd  fools  we  are!" 

'T*  'T*  ^  'J^  *»*  1*  T* 

In  spite  of  his  night  vigil  Tom  Hammond  was  in  his 
office  at  his  usual  hour.  He  had  been  there  about  an 
hour  when  there  came  a  short,  sharp  rap  on  the  panel 
of  his  room-door.  In  response  to  his  "Come  in!"  Joyce, 
the  drunken  reporter  lurched  in.  In  some  way  he  had 
contrived  to  elude  those  on  duty  in  the  enquiry-office. 

He  was  the  worse  for  drink,  and  in  response  to  Ham- 
mond's sharp  queries: 

"What  do  you  want?  How  came  you  here  unan- 
nounced ?"  he  began  to  "beg  the  loan  of  five  shillings." 

"Not  a  copper!"  cried  Hammond. 

Joyce  whined  for  it. 

Hammond  refused  more  sharply. 

The  drunken  wretch  cringed,  whimpered  for  "just 
'arf-a-crown." 

The  fellow  began  to  bluster,  then  to  threaten. 

"If  you  don't  leave  this  room,  I'll  hurl  you  out,"  cried 
Hammond,  "and  give  you  in  custody  of  the  police." 


146  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

The  drunken  beast  straightened  his  limp  form  as  well 
as  he  was  able,  as  he  hiccoughed : 

"All  rightsh,  Tom  Ham'n'd.  Every  dawg  hash  hish 
day.  You're  havin'  yoursh  now,  all  rightsh — all  rightsh, 
— but  I'll — hie — do  fur  yer ;  I'll — hie — ruin  yer ;  111 " 

Tom  Hammond  darted  from  his  place  by  the  table. 
The  next  instant  he  would  have  put  his  threat  of  "hurling 
out"  into  execution,  but  the  drunken  braggart  did  not 
wait  for  him,  for  he  shuffled  out  of  the  room,  cursing 
hideously. 

As  the  door  closed  upon  him,  Tom  Hammond  went 
across  to  the  window,  and  flung  up  the  lower  sashes,  and 
drew  down  the  upper  ones.  From  a  drawer  in  a  cabinet 
he  took  a  strip  of  scented  joss-paper,  and  lit  it.  The 
sandal-like  perfume  spread  instantly  through  all  the  room. 

"Faugh !"  he  muttered.  "The  whole  place  seems  foul 
after  his  presence." 

He  turned  to  his  wash-stand,  rolled  back  the  polished 
top,  and  washed  his  hands. 

"I'll  see  Ralph,  he  muttered,  as  he  dried  his  hands 
"and  go  out  for  a  couple  of  hours.  I'll  go  and  see 
Cohen." 

It  was  curious  how  often  he  found  excuse  to  visit  the 
Jew. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  drove  up  to  the  house 
of  Cohen.  He  found  him,  with  his  wife  and  Zillah,  on 
the  point  of  starting  for  their  synagogue. 

"One  may  live  a  life-time,  as  a  Jew,  in  this  country," 
Cohen  explained,  "and  never  see  the  ceremony  that  is 
about  to  take  place  in  our  synagogue.  It  is  what  is 
known  in  our  religion  as  'Chalitza.'  Will  you  go  with 
us,  Mr.  Hammond?" 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  147 

Tom  Hammond's  eyes  met  Zillah's.  Then  he  promptly 
said — 

"Yes"  to  the  Jew's  question. 

"Right,  then!  We  can  explain  about  the  ceremony  as 
we  go !"  Cohen  said,  and  the  quartette  left  the  house. 

There  was  not  much  time  for  explanation,  but  what 
Tom  Hammond  heard  convinced  him  that  he  was  a  for- 
tunate journalist  that  day.  He  had  no  opportunity  of 
talking  with  Zillah,  but  he  found  his  heart  beating  with 
a  strange  wildness  whenever  his  eyes  met  hers — and  they 
frequently  met. 

At  the  door  of  the  synagogue  the  party  had  to  separ- 
ate, the  two  women  going  one  way,  Cohen  and  Hammond 
another.  The  building  was  filling  very  fast.  Presently 
it  was  packed  to  suffocation. 

It  was  Tom  Hammond's  first  sight  of  a  Jewish  con- 
gregation in  a  synagogue.  It  amazed  him.  The  hatted 
men  and  bewigged  women — these  latter  sat  behind  a 
grille.  The  gorgeousness  of  much  of  the  female  finery. 
The  curious  "praying  shawls" — the  "Talith"  of  the  men. 

Suddenly  a  Rabbi  began  to  intone  the  opening  words 
of  the  service,  reading  from  the  roll  of  the  law,  "The 
Holy  Scroll:"  "If  brethren  dwell  together,  and  one  of 
them  die,  and  have  no  child,  the  wife  of  the  dead  shall 
not  marry  without  unto  a  stranger;  her  husband's 
brother  shall  take  her  to  wife,  and  perform  the  duty  of  a 
husband's  brother  to  her.  .  .  .  And  if  the  man  like  not  to 
take  his  brother's  wife,  then  let  his  brother's  wife  go  up  to 
the  gate  unto  the  elders,  and  say,  My  husband's  brother 
refuseth  to  raise  up  unto  his  brother  a  name  in  Israel, 
he  will  not  perform  the  duty  of  my  husband's  brother. 

"Then  the  elder  of  the  city  shall  call  the  man,  and 


148  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

speak  unto  him :  and  if  he  stand  to  it,  and  say,  I  Hke  not 
to  take  her ; 

"Then  shall  his  brother's  wife  come  unto  him  in  the 
presence  of  the  elders,  and  loose  his  shoe  from  off  his 
foot,  and  shall  spit  in  his  face,  and  shall  answer  and  say. 
*So  shall  it  be  done  unto  that  man  that  will  not  build 
us  his  brothers'  house.' 

"And  his  name  shall  be  called  in  Israel  'the  house  of 
him  that  hath  his  shoe  loosed'." 

The  service  was  all  very  curious  in  the  eyes  of  Tom 
Hammond.  He  followed  every  item  of  it  with  the 
closest,  most  interested  attention.  Presently  the  parties 
specially  concerned  mounted  the  platform.  This  plat- 
form was  backed  with  a  huge  square  frame  covered  with 
black  cloth.  This  was  meant  to  symbolize  mourning  for 
the  dead  husband.  Three  tall  candle-sticks  held  lighted 
candles,  their  flames  looking  weird  and  sickly  in  the 
daylight. 

The  Rabbi  stooped  before  the  brother-in-law,  and 
took  off  his  right  shoe  and  sock.  Another  official  washed 
the  foot,  wiped  it  with  a  towel,  and  pared  the  toe-nails. 

A  soft  white  shoe,  made  specially  for  the  occasion, 
was  then  taken  by  the  rabbi,  put  on  to  the  bare  foot  of 
the  man,  and  laced  up  very  tightly,  the  long  ends  of  the 
lace  being  twisted  round  the  ankle  and  knotted  securely. 

Then  there  followed  a  seemingly  interminable  string 
of  questions,  put  by  the  rabbi,  and  answered  by  the 
brother-in-law.  The  catechism  culminated  in  a  few  chief 
questions  such  as: 

"Do  you  wish  to  marry  this  woman?" 

"I  do  not,"  repHed  the  brother-in-law. 

"For  what  reason?" 

"I  am  already  married;  my  wife  is  living,  and  the 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  149 

law  of  the  land  we  live  in  does  not  permit  my  having 
more  than  one  wife. 

The  reply  rang  clear  and  strong  through  the  silent 
building,  and  the  hush  seemed  to  deepen  as  the  rabbi 
asked, 

"Will  you  give  this  woman  Chalitza  ?" 

"Certainly  I  will,  if  she  wishes  it,"  replied  the  brother- 
in-law. 

Turning  to  the  woman,  the  rabbi  asked,  "Do  you  wish 
to  receive  Chalitza?" 

Tom  Hammond  saw  how  the  light  of  a  great  eager- 
ness leaped  into  the  eyes  of  the  beautiful  Jewess,  and 
how  her  face  glowed  with  the  warmth  of  a  sudden 
colour,  as  she  replied, 

"I  do  wish  for  Chalitza,  for  I  desire  to  marry  again." 

The  rabbi's  assistant  gave  her  certain  instructions,  and 
she  knelt  before  her  brother-in-law,  and  with  the  thumb 
and  finger  of  her  right  hand — she  dare  not  use  the  left, 
however  difficult  her  task  might  prove, — she  began  unty- 
ing the  knots  in  the  lace  fastenings  around  the  ankle. 

It  was  no  child's  play  to  unfasten  the  shoe.  The  knots 
had  been  drawn  very  tight ;  but  she  was  very  determined, 
and  presently  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  broke  from  the  breath- 
less, watching  congregation,  as,  taking  the  shoe  from 
the  man's  foot,  she  flung  it  sharply  down,  twice,  upon  the 
floor. 

She  rose  now  to  her  feet  to  complete  the  ceremony. 
The  law  of  spitting  in  the  face  of  the  man  had  been 
modified  to  meet  the  views  of  a  day  less  gross  than  when 
it  was  carried  out  in  full  coarseness. 

The  brother-in-law  took  a  couple  of  paces  backwards, 
and  the  beautiful  widow  spat  on  the  place  he  had  stood  a 
moment  before. 


150  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

Then  she  faced  the  great  congregation.  Her  eyes  tra- 
velled straight  to  the  face  of  the  man  she  loved,  whom 
she  was  shortly  to  marry.  Her  eyes  danced  with  excite- 
ment, her  cheeks  were  rosy  with  colour,  her  whole  face 
was  full  of  an  indescribable  rapture,  as  she  cried: 

"I  am  free!" 

"True,  sister,  you  are  free!"  the  brother-in-law 
responded. 

The  rabbi  moved  swiftly  to  her  side,  and,  looking  into 
her  face,  said: 

"O  woman  of  Israel,  you  are  free !" 

With  a  shout  that  reminded  Tom  Hammond  of  the 
shout,  ''He  is  risen!"  at  the  Easter  service  in  the  Greek 
churches  of  Russia,  the  excited,  perspiring  congregation 
cried:     "Woman,  you  are  free!" 

A  moment  or  two  later  the  service  concluded,  and  the 
building  emptied.  Walking  homeward  by  Hammond's 
side,  Cohen  said,  "Only  the  most  orthodox  of  Jews  would 
dream  of  using  Chalitza  to  free  themselves  for  re-marry- 
ing. This  is  the  only  case  I  have  personally  known. 
By-the-bye,  Mr.  Hammond,  it  is  said  that  about  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  that  one  of  the  Roths- 
child widows  sought  Chalitza,  but  failed  to  untie  the  lace 
of  the  shoe,  and  was  disqualified  from  re-marrying." 

Cohen's  wife  had  stopped  to  speak  to  some  friends. 
The  young  Jew  joined  her.  Tom  Hammond  found  him- 
self moving  forward  by  Zillah's  side. 

"What  an  extraordinary  service  that  was,  Miss 
Robart !"  he  said. 

"It  was !"  she  glanced  almost  shyly  away  from  him, 
for,  unknown  to  himself  his  eyes  were  full  of  the  warm- 
est admiration. 

"Do  you  think,   Miss  Robart,"  he  went  on,  "if  you 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  151 

were  situated  as  was  that  beautiful  woman  whom  we 
have  just  seen  freed  from  the  Mosaic  bond,  that  you 
would  have  braved  the  ChaHtza  ceremony,  or  would  you 
have  taken  advantage  of  the  English  law  and " 

She  lifted  her  great,  black,  lustrous  eyes  to  his  in  a 
sudden  gaze  of  utter  frankness,  as,  interrupting  him, 
she  cried: 

"I  would  certainly  not  marry  any  man,  save  one  whom 
I  could  wholly  revere  and  love !" 

"Happy  the  man  whom  you  shall  thus  honour,  Miss 
Robart !" 

Tom  Hammond  barely  whispered  the  words,  and  she 
was  not  wholly  sure  that  he  meant  them  for  her  ears. 
She  did  not  respond  in  any  way.  But  she  was  conscious 
that  his  gaze  was  fixed  upon  her.  She  was  equally 
conscious  that  she  was  blushing  furiously. 

Perhaps  it  was  to  give  her  a  chance  of  recovering 
herself,  that  his  next  question  was  on  quite  a  different 
topic. 

"Are  you.  Miss  Robart,"  he  said,  "wholly  wedded  to 
the  Jewish  faith?  Do  you  believe,  for  instance,  that 
Jesus,  the  Nazarene,  was  an  impostor?" 

He  heard  the  catch  that  came  into  her  throat.  Then, 
with  a  half-frightened  look  around,  she  lifted  her  melt- 
ing eyes  to  his,  as  she  said,  "I  can  trust  you,  Mr.  Ham- 
mon,  I  know.  You  will  keep  my  confidence,  if  I  give 
it  to  you?" 

His  eyes  answered  her,  and  she  went  on. 

"I  have  not  dared  to  breathe  a  word  of  it  to  anyone, 
not  even  to  my  good  brother-in-law  Abraham,  but  I  am 
learning  to  love  the  Christ." 

Her  face  was  filled  with  a  holy  light,  her  cheeks  glowed 
with  excitement,  as  she  went  on : 


152  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

''I  see  how  the  prophecies  of  our  forefathers — Isaiah 
especially — were  all  literally  fulfilled  in  the  life  and  work 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  I  see,  too,  that  when  next  He 
comes,  it  will  not  be  as  our  race  supposes,  as  the  Messiah 
to  the  Jews,  but  He  will  come  in  the  air,  and " 

She  glanced  sharply  round.  Some  instinct  told  her 
her  friends  were  coming. 

"No  more  now,"  she  whispered.  "I  will  tell  you  more 
another  time.  I  shall  myself  know  more,  to-night.  I 
go  twice  a  week  to  a  mission-room  at  Spitalfields " 

"What  time?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"Seven,"  she  replied,  not  realizing  the  eagerness  of  his 
tone. 

"Where  is  this  place?"  he  went  on. 

She  had  just  time  to  tell  him.  When  Cohen  and  his 
wife  came  up,  husband  and  wife  began  talking  together. 
Zillah  appeared  to  listen,  but  in  reality  she  heard  nothing 
of  what  they  were  saying.  For  a  strange  thing  had 
happened. 

She  had  dropped  her  hand  by  her  side  as  the  Cohens 
had  rejoined  them,  and  had  suddenly  found  her  fingers 
clasped  in  Hammond's  hand. 

What  did  it  mean?  she  wondered.  They  had  met 
often  of  late.  She  had  read  an  unmistakable  ardency 
in  his  eyes  very  often,  when  her  glance  met  his.  And, 
deep  in  her  own  heart,  she  knew  that  all  the  woman-love 
she  would  ever  have  to  give  a  man  she  had  unconsciously 
given  to  him.  Was  this  sudden  secret  handclasp  of  his 
a  silent  expression  of  love  on  his  part,  or  was  it  meant 
merely  as  an  assurance  of  sympathy  in  the  matter  of  her 
new  faith? 

She  could  not  be  sure  which  it  was,  but  she  let  her 
plump  fingers  give  a  little  pressure  of  response.     How 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  153 

did  he  translate  this  response?  she  wondered.  She  had 
no  means  of  deciding,  save  that  her  heart  leaped  wildly 
in  a  tumultous  delight  as  she  felt  how  he  literally  gripped 
her  fingers  in  a  closer,  warmer  clasp. 

They  had  reached  the  house  by  this  time.  Hammond 
would  not  go  in.  He  shook  hands,  in  parting,  with  each, 
but  his  hold  upon  Zillah's  hand  was  longer  than  on  the 
others.  He  pressed  the  fingers  meaningly,  and  his  eyes 
held  an  ardency  that  gave  a  new  tumult  to  her  heart. 

As  she  passed  into  the  house  she  whispered  to  herself, 
"Will  he  be  at  Spitalfields  to-night?" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
TOLD  IN  A  CAB. 

A  QUARTER  of  an  hour  before  the  time  Zillah  had 
given  him,  Tom  Hammond  was  waiting  near  the 
"Mission  Hall  for  Jews/"  where  the  meeting  was  to  be 
held.  He  was  anxious  that  she  should  not  know  of  his 
proximity,  so  kept  out  of  sight, — there  were  many  possi- 
bilities of  this  among  the  various  stalls  in  the  gutter-way. 

Presently  he  saw  her  coming,  and  the  light  of  a  glad 
admiration  leaped  into  his  eyes.  "What  a  superb  face 
and  figure  she  has !"  he  mused.  "What  a  perfect  queen 
of  a  woman  she  is !" 

From  behind  a  whelk-stall  he  watched  her  cross  over 
to  the  door  of  the  Hall.  Here  she  paused  a  moment, 
and  glanced  around. 

"I  believe  she  half  expected  to  see  me  somewhere 
near!"  he  murmured  to  himself. 

She  entered  the  Hall.  By  the  time  her  head  was 
bowed  in  prayer,  he  had  entered,  and  had  taken  a  seat 
on  the  last  form,  the  fourth  behind  hers.  When  she 
first  raised  her  head  from  her  silent  prayer,  she  looked 
around  and  backward.  In  her  heart  she  was  hoping  he 
would  be  there.  If  he  had  not  been  bending  in  prayer, 
she  must  have  seen  him.  After  that  she  turned  no  more, 
the  service  soon  occupied  all  her  thoughts. 

He  too  became  utterly  absorbed  by  the  service,  of 
which  the  address  was  the  chief  feature.  It  was  largely 
expository,  and  from  the  first  utterance  of  the  speaker, 
it  riveted  Tom  Hammond's  attention. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  155 

The  speaker,  himself  a  converted  Jew,  took  as  his 
text  Deut.  xxi.  22,  23. 

"If  a  man  have  committed  a  sin  worthy  of  death, 
and  is  sentenced  to  death,  and  thou  hang  him  on  a  tree, 
his  corpse  shall  not  remain  all  night  upon  the  tree,  but, 
burying,  thou  shalt  bury  him  on  that  day  (because  he 
who  is  hanged  is  accursed  of  God.") 

"Now,  brethren,"  the  speaker  went  on,  "as  far  as  I 
have  been  able  to  discover,  in  all  the  Hebrew  records  I 
have  been  able  to  consult,  and  in  all  the  histories  of  our 
race,  I  have  not  found  a  single  reference  to  a  Hebrew 
official  hanging  of  a  criminal  on  a  tree.  To  what,  then, 
does  this  verse  refer,  and  why  is  it  placed  on  Jehovah's 
statute-book  ?" 

For  a  few  moments  he  appealed  to  his  Jewish  hearers 
on  points  peculiarly  Hebraic.    Then  presently  he  said, 

"Now  let  us  see  if  the  New  Testament  will  shed  any 
light  upon  this." 

Turning  rapidly  the  leaves  of  his  Bible,  he  went  on: 
"There  is  a  book  in  the  Christian  Scriptures  known  as 
the  Epistle  to  the  Galatians  which,  in  the  tenth  verse 
of  the  third  chapter,  repeats  our  own  word  from  Deuter- 
onomy : 

"Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things 
which  are  written  in  the  Book  of  the  Law  to  do  them/ 
and  in  the  thirteenth  verse  says,  'Christ  hath  redeemed  us 
from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a  curse  for  us: 
for  it  is  written.  Cursed  is  every  one  that  hangeth  on  a 
tree.' 

"We  all,  brethren,  as  the  sons  of  Abraham,  believe 
that  our  father  David's  Psalm  beginning,  'My  God,  my 
God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me?'  was  never  written 
out  of  his  own  experience,  but  was  prophetic  of  some 


156  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

other  Person.  Now,  let  me  quote  you  some  of  the  words 
of  that  Psalm." 

In  clear,  succinct  language,  the  speaker,  quoting  verse 
after  verse  of  the  Psalm,  showed  how  literally  the  des- 
criptions fitted  into  a  death  by  crucifixion.  Referring 
to  the  Gospel  narratives  of  the  death  on  the  cross,  he 
showed  how  they  also  fitted  in  with  the  description  of 
Christ's  death,  and  how  Christ  actually  took  upon  His 
dying  lips  the  cry  of  the  Psalm,  "My  God,  My  God,  why 
hast  Thou  forsaken  Me?" 

Then  with  wondrous  clearness  he  referred  to  parts 
of  Isaiah  liii.,  and,  continuing  his  theme,  showed  that  it 
was  evident  that  only  one  particular  type  of  death  could 
have  atoned  for  the  sin  of  the  human  race,  a  death  that 
would  render  the  dying  one  accursed  of  the  Almighty. 
The  only  death  that  would  fully  carry  out  that  condition 
was  crucifixion. 

"Our  race  waited  for  the  Messiah,"  he  cried,  "and 
He  came.  Our  prophet  Micah  said,  'Yet  thou,  O  Bethle- 
hem-Ephratah,  little  as  thou  art  amidst  the  thousands 
of  Judah,  yet  out  of  thee  shall  proceed  from  Me,  One 
who  is  to  be  ruler  in  Israel !" 

"The  Christ  was  born  at  the  only  time  in  the  world's 
history  when  He  could  have  been  executed  on  a  tree — 
crucified.  At  a  time  when  the  Roman — crucifixion  was 
a  Roman  punishment — swayed  our  beloved  land  of  Jewry. 
So  that  Paul,  the  great  Jew,  chosen  of  God  to  be  apostle 
to  the  Gentiles,  wrote  after  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus, 
the  Nazarene,  'According  to  the  time,  Christ  died." 

For  some  minutes  the  speaker  appealed  to  his  Jewish 
hearers  with  a  wonderful  power.  Then  finally  address- 
ing not  only  the  Jews,  but  any  Gentiles  Vv^ho  might 
be  present,  he  cried : 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  157 

"We  must  know  the  meaning  of  sin,  brethren,  before 
we  can  understand  the  mystery  of  a  crucified  Christ. 
A  beheaded,  a  stoned  Christ,  could  not  have  atoned  for 
a  guilty  world,  but  only  a  God-cursed  death,  a  tree-cursed 
death  could  have  done  this. 

"And  Christ  was  cursed  for  us — He  who  knew  no 
curse  of  His  own.  Ah !  beloved,  the  guilt  of  the  human 
race  is  the  key  to  the  cross. 

"Times  change,  customs  change,  but  sin  remains,  sin 
is  ever  the  same,  and  only  a  living,  personal  trust  in 
the  crucified  Christ  can  ever  deliver  the  unsaved  sinner 
from  the  wrath  of  God  which  abideth  on  him." 

The  address  closed.  Tom  Hammond  awoke  from 
his  intense  absorption  of  soul.  He  had  long  since  utterly 
forgotten  Zillah.  He  had  seen  only  himself,  at  first, 
his  own  sin,  and  that  his  sin  had  nailed  Christ  to  the 
cross.    Then,  better  still,  he  saw  the  Christ. 

Only  a  few  nights  before  he  had  paused  to  watch  a 
Salvation  Army  open-air  meeting.  The  girl-officer  in 
charge  of  the  corps  had  announced  thirty-eight  as  the 
number  of  the  hymn  they  would  sing,  and  prefaced  the 
reading  of  the  first  verse  by  saying : 

"This  hymn  was  written  by  an  ex-drunkard — an  ex- 
blasphemer.  His  name  was  Newton — drunken  Jack 
Newton,  he  was  often  called  by  his  mates,  and  by  others 
who  knew  him.  He  was  a  sailor,  on  a  ship  trading  to 
the  African  coast,  at  the  time  when  his  soul  was  aroused 
to  its  danger.  He  was  in  agony,  not  knowing  what  to 
do  to  get  rest  and  peace. 

"One  night  he  was  keeping  anchor-watch.  He  was 
alone  on  the  deck,  the  night  was  dark  and  eerie.  His  sins 
troubled  him.  All  that  he  had  heard  of  the  crucified 
Christ — whom  he  had  so  often  blasphemed — swept  into 


158  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

his  soul,  and  he  groaned  in  the  misery  of  his  sin-convicted 
state. 

"Suddenly  he  paused  in  his  deck-pacing,  and  looked 
up.  To  his  fevered  imagination,  the  yard  which  crossed 
the  mast  high  up  above  his  head  appeared  like  a  mighty 
cross,  and  it  was  remembering  this,  with  all  the  soul- 
experience  of  that  night,  that  in  after  years,  when  he 
became  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  and  a  noted  divine,  Dr. 
John  Newton  wrote : 

"I  saw  One  hanging  on  a  tree 

In  agonies  and  blood, 
Who  fixed  His  dying  eyes  on  me. 

As  near  the  cross  I  stood. 
'A  second  look  He  gave,  which  said, 

'T  freely  all  forgive 
My  blood  was  for  thy  ransom  paid, 

I  die  that  thou  may'st  live.' "  " 

Recalling  these  words  now,  Tom  Hammond's  soul 
received  the  great  Revelation.  He  heard  no  word  of  the 
closing  hymn  and  prayer,  but  passed  out  into  the  open 
air  a  new  man  in  Christ. 

The  mission-leader  had  given  an  invitation  to  any 
who  would  like  to  be  helped  in  soul  matters  to  remain 
behind.     Tom  Hammond  noticed  that  Zillah  lingered. 

It  was  half-an-hour  before  she  came  out.  Tom  Ham- 
mond had  Hved  a  lifetime  of  wonder  in  the  thirty  minutes. 

Like  one  in  a  delicious  dream  Zillah  walked  on  a  few 
yards.  Suddenly  she  became  aware  of  Tom  Hammond's 
presence  at  her  side. 

"Zillah !" 

He  gave  her  no  other  word  of  greeting.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  ever  called  the  young  girl  by  her 
first  name.  He  took  her  hand,  and  drew  it  through  his 
arm.     She  barely  noticed  the  tender  action,  for  her  soul 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  159 

was  rioting  in  a  new-found  joy,  and  she  poured  out,  in 
a  few  sentences,  all  the  story  of  her  supreme  trust  in 
Christ  the  Nazarene. 

His  voice  was  hoarse  with  many  emotions,  as  he  said, 

"I,  too,  Zillah,  have  to-night  seen  Jesus  Christ  dying 
for  my  sin,  and  have  taken  Him  for  my  own  personal 
Saviour !" 

Suddenly  she  realized  how  closely  he  was  holding 
her  to  his  side,  how  tight  was  the  clasp  of  his  hand  upon 
hers.  She  looked  up  into  his  face  to  express  her  joy 
at  his  new-found  faith.  Their  eyes  met.  A  new  mean- 
ing flashed  in  their  exchanged  glances. 

A  four-wheeled  cab  moved  slowly  along  in  the  gutter- 
way,  the  driver  uttered  a  low  "Keb,  keb !" 

Tom  Hammond  seized  the  opportune  offer,  and  whis- 
pered, 

"Let  us  take  a  cab,  Zillah.  I  have  something  to  say 
to  you  which  I  must  say  to-night." 

Before  scarcely  she  realized  it,  she  was  seated  by  his 
side  in  the  cab. 

There  is  a  moment  in  every  woman's  life  when  her 
heart  warns  her  of  the  coming  of  the  great  event  in  that 
life,  when  love  is  to  be  offered  to  her  by  the  only  man 
who  has  ever  loomed  large  enough  in  her  consciousness 
to  be  able  to  affect  her  existence. 

This  moment  had  suddenly  unexpectedly  come  to 
Zillah  Robart. 

Her  heart  warned  her  that  the  crisis  was  upon  her. 
She  had  done  nothing  to  precipitate  it.  It  had  met 
her,  drawn  her  aside,  and  had  shut  her  up  in  the  semi- 
darkness  of  this  vehicle  with  the  only  man  she  could 
ever  love. 


160  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

The  cab  rattled  over  the  cobbles  of  that  wide  East-end 
thoroughfare,  past  the  throngs  of  moving  pedestrians, 
though,  to  her  consciousness,  the  whole  wide  world  con- 
sisted of  but  one  man — the  man  at  her  side. 

He  had  secured  her  hand,  he  held  it  in  his  strong, 
hot  clasp.  She  held  her  breath  in  a  strange,  expectant 
ecstasy.    Then  the  inevitable  came.     She  felt  its  coming. 

Tom  Hammond  was  drawing  her  closer  to  himself. 
She  was  yielding  to  that  drawing.  She  caught  her 
breath  again,  and  as  she  did  so  a  rush  of  strange  tears 
filled  her  eyes. 

"Zillah!"  his  voice  was  hoarse  and  deep. 

She  realized  the  meaning  of  the  hoarseness.  She 
knew  by  her  own  feeHng  that  the  depth  and  intensity 
of  his  voice  was  due  to  the  emotion  that  filled  him.  She 
knew  she  would  have  found  herself  voiceless  at  that 
moment  had  she  tried  to  speak. 

"I  love  you,  my  darling!"  he  went  on.  'T  have  loved 
you  from  the  first  instant  I  met  you.  You  have  felt  it, 
known  it,  dear.     Have  you  not?" 

She  tried  to  speak,  her  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came 
from  them.  But  she  looked  into  his  eyes,  and  he  read 
his  answer. 

With  a  sweeping  gesture  of  passionate  love  he  gathered 
her  into  his  arms  and  showered  kisses  upon  her  lips,  her 
cheeks,  her  forehead,  her  hair. 

She  lay  like  a  stunned  thing  in  his  arms.  Her  joy 
was  almost  greater  than  she  could  bear.  Then  as  his 
hot  lips  sought  hers  again,  she  awoke  from  her  semi- 
trance  of  ecstasy,  and  with  a  little  sob  she  flung  her 
arms  upwards  and  clasped  them  about  his  neck,  crying, 

''Love  you,  my  darling?  Love  seems  too  poor  a  word 
to   express  my   feeling,   for  God  knows  that,   save  my 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  161 

Lord  Jesus,  to  whom  to-night  I  have  fully  yielded,  you 
are  all  my  life." 

Her  voice  was  stifled  with  a  little  rush  of  tears.  Where 
she  lay  on  his  breast,  he  felt  how  all  her  frame  quivered. 

"And  you  will  be  mine,  dear  Zillah — and  soon?"  His 
eyes  burned  into  hers,  asking  for  an  answer  as  loudly 
as  his  lips. 

She  did  not  answer  him  for  a  moment.  Her  heart 
beat  with  a  tumultuous  gladness,  and  her  brain  throbbed 
with  the  wonder  of  what  she  conceived  to  be  the  honour 
that  had  come  to  her.  Wondering  incredulity  mingled 
with  the  rapturous  ecstasy  that  filled  her. 

"But   you   are   so  great — so "      She   paused,    she 

could  find  no  words  to  express  all  that  prospective 
wifedom  to  him  appeared  to  her. 

He  smiled  down  into  her  eyes.  Her  loveliness  seemed 
to  him  greater  than  ever  before. 

"You  seem  like  a  king  to  me !"  she  gasped  at  last. 

"You,  Zillah,"  he  smiled,  "do  not  seem,  you  are,  a 
queen  to  me.  Say,  darling,  the  one  word  that  shall 
fill  all  my  soul  with  delight — say  that  you  will  be  mine 
— and  soon,  very  soon !" 

"I  will." 

There  was  the  intensity  of  a  mighty  love  in  her  utter- 
ance of  the  two  words. 

He  gathered  her  to  himself  in  an  even  closer  embrace, 
and  spent  his  kisses  on  her  Hps. 

The  flush  of  pride,  of  love,  burned  deeper  in  her  face. 

"Oh,  why  is  it  given  to  me  to  have  such  bliss?"  she 
murmured. 

The  words  were  low-breathed ;  they  sounded  like  a 
gasping  sigh  of  delight  more  than  a  voiced  utterance. 

For  a  moment,  clasped  tightly  in  his  arms,  she  was 


162  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

silent,  and  he  uttered  no  word.    Presently  he  whispered, 

"Will  it  give  you  joy,  I  wonder,  my  darling,  to  know 
that  I  have  been  a  man  free  of  all  woman's  love  before? 
I  have  seen  many  women,  in  many  lands,  the  loveliest  of 
the  earth — though  none  so  lovely  as  you,  my  sweetheart. 
It  is  no  egotism  on  my  part,  either,  to  say  that  many 
women  have  sought  my  love  by  their  smiles  and  favour. 
But  none  ever  won  a  word  of  love  or  response  from 
me." 

The  cab  was  passing  a  great  central  light  in  the  heart 
of  a  junction  of  four  roads.  Her  eyes,  full  of  a  great 
rapture,  sought  his.  His  were  fixed  upon  her  face,  and 
filled  with  a  love  so  great  that  again  she  caught  her 
breath  in  wonder. 

"But  you,  my  Zillah !"  He  caught  her  close  to  himself 
again,  and  bending  his  head,  let  his  lips  cling  to  hers, 
"But  you,  darling!"  he  continued,  "have  been  to  me  all 
that  the  heart  of  man  could  ever  wish  for,  from  the 
first  moment  I  met  you.  May  God  give  us  a  long  life 
together,  dearest,  and  make  us  (with  our  new-bom  faith 
in  Him)  to  be  the  best,  the  holiest  help-meets,  the  one 
to  the  other,  that  this  world  has  ever  known." 

Where  she  lay  in  his  arms,  he  felt  her  tremble  with 
the  intensity  of  her  joy.  As  he  looked  down  into  the 
deep,  dreamy  lustrousness  of  her  eyes,  he  saw  how  they 
were  full  of  a  far-ofif  look,  as  though  she  was  picturing 
that  united  future  of  which  he  had  spoken. 

Perhaps  he  read  that  look  in  her  eyes  aright.  Then, 
as  he  watched  her,  he  saw  how  the  colour  deepened  in 
her  face.  She  slowly,  proudly,  yet  with  a  glad  frank- 
ness, lifted  herself  in  his  arms  until,  in  a  tender,  passion- 
ate caress,  her  lips  rested  upon  his  in  the  first  spontaneous 
kiss  she  had  given  him. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  163 

"If  the  Christ,  to  whom  we  have  given  ourselves 
to-night,  should  tarry,"  she  whispered,  "and  we  are  spared 
to  dwell  together  on  earth  as  husband  and  wife,  dear 
Tom,  may  God  answer  all  that  prayer  of  yours  abund- 
antly." 

The  cab  turned  a  corner  sharply  at  that  moment.  He 
looked  through  the  window.  They  were  within  a  few 
hundred  yards  of  where  he  had  given  the  driver  orders 
to  stop.  Zillah  would  have,  on  alighting,  only  the  length 
of  a  short  street  to  traverse  before  reaching  home,  and 
he  would  take  a  hansom  and  drive  back  to  the  office. 
But  the  intervening  moments  before  they  would  part  were 
very  precious,  and  love  took  unlimited  toll  in  those  swift, 
fleeting  moments. 


CHAPTER  XTX. 

TOM  HAMMOND  REVIEWING. 

IT  was  the  morning  after  Tom  Hammond  had  found 
Christ,  and  had  closed  with  the  great  offer  of  redemp- 
tion. He  had  scarcely  slept  for  the  joy  of  the  two  loves 
that  had  so  suddenly  come  into  his  life. 

During  the  sleepless  hours,  he  had  learned,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  Hfe,  the  true  secret  of  prayer,  and 
that  even  greater  secret,  that  of  communion. 

With  real  prayer  there  is  always  a  certain  degree  of 
communion,  but  real,  deep,  soul-filling  communion  is 
more  often  found  in  seasons  when  the  communing  one 
asks  for  nothing,  but,  silent  before  his  or  her  God,  the 
sense  of  the  Divine  fills  all  the  being,  and  if  the  lips  utter 
any  sound  it  is  the  cry,  "My  Lord  and  my  God!" 

Tom  Hammond,  reviewing  all  that  God  had  revealed 
to  him,  learned  in  those  first  hours  of  his  new  birth 
the  secret  of  adoring  communion  with  God. 

In  the  book  of  extracts  he  had  been  reading  in  the 
tube  train  at  the  moment  when  he  had  first  heard  of 

Major  H 's  coming  address  on  the  Second  Advent, 

he  had  come  across  one  headed,  "Frederick  William 
Faber:  The  Precious  Blood — chap,  iv."  He  had  at  the 
time  been  considerably  impressed  with  the  extract,  though 
there  was  a  certain  note  about  it  which  he  had  failed 
to  understand.  In  the  flush  of  the  great  revelation  that 
had  come  to  his  soul  (in  that  little  meeting  at  Spital- 
fields),  he  now  found  the  book,  and  re-read  the  extract: 

*T  was  upon  the  sea-shore ;  and  my  heart  filled  with 
love  it  knew  not  why.     Its  happiness  went  out  over  the 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  165 

wide  waters,  and  upon  the  unfettered  wind,  and  swelled 
up  into  the  free  dome  of  blue  sky  until  it  filled  it.  The 
dawn  lighted  up  the  faces  of  the  ivory  cliffs,  which  the 
sun  and  sea  had  been  blanching  for  centuries  of  God's 
unchanging  love.  The  miles  of  noiseless  sands  seemed 
vast,  as  if  they  were  the  floors  of  eternity.  Somehow, 
the  daybreak  was  like  eternity.  The  idea  came  over 
me  of  that  feeling  of  acceptance  which  so  entrances  the 
soul  just  judged  and  just  admitted  into  heaven. 

"  To  be  saved !'    I  said  to  myself,  'to  be  saved !' 

"Then  the  thoughts  of  all  the  things  implied  in  salva- 
tion came  in  one  thought  upon  me ;  and  I  said : 

*'  'This  is  the  one  grand  joy  of  Hfe;'  and  I  clapped  my 
hands  like  a  child,  and  spoke  to  God  aloud.  But  then 
there  came  many  thoughts,  all  in  one  thought,  about  the 
nature  and  manner  of  our  salvation.  To  be  saved  with 
such  a  salvation! 

"This  was  a  grander  joy,  the  second  grand  joy  of  life; 
and  I  tried  to  say  some  lines  of  a  hymn  but  the  words 
were  choked  in  my  throat.  The  ebb  was  sucking  the 
sea  down  over  the  sand  quite  silently ;  and  the  cliffs  were 
whiter,  and  more  day-like.  Then  there  came  many  more 
thoughts  all  in  one  thought,  and  I  stood  still  without 
intending  it. 

"To  be  saved  by  such  a  Saviour !  This  was  the  grand- 
est joy  of  all,  the  third  grand  joy  of  life;  and  it  swal- 
lowed up  the  other  joys;  and  after  it  there  could  be  on 
earth  no  higher  joy. 

"I  said  nothing;  but  I  looked  at  the  sinking  sea  as 
it  reddened  in  the  morning.  Its  great  heart  was  throb- 
bing in  the  calm ;  and  methought  I  saw  the  precious  blood 
of  Jesus  in  heaven,  throbbing  that  hour  with  real  human 
love  of  me." 


166  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

"Yes,"  murmured  Tom  Hammond,  "after  all,  to  be 
saved  by  such  a  Saviour  is  a  greater,  higher,  holier 
thought  than  the  mere  knowledge  that  one  is  saved,  or 
of  the  realization  of  what  that  salvation  comprises." 

In  every  way  that  night  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten 
by  Tom  Hammond.  He  needed,  too,  all  the  strength 
born  of  his  new  communion  with  God  to  meet  what 
awaited  him  with  the  coming  of  the  new  day's  daily 
papers. 

The  paper  whom  whose  staff  he  had  been  practically 
dismissed  in  our  first  chapter  (the  editor  of  which  was 
his  bitterest  enemy)  had  found  how  to  use  "the  glass 
stiletto." 

Some  of  the  most  scurrilous  paragraphs  ever  penned 
appeared  in  his  enemy's  columns  that  morning.  It  is 
true  that  the  identity  of  the  man  slandered  (Tom  Ham- 
mond) was  veiled,  but  so  thinly — so  devilishly — that 
every  journalist,  and  a  myriad  other  readers,  would  know 
against  whom  the  scurrilous  utterances  were  hurled. 

Tom  Hammond  would  not  have  been  human  if  the 
reading  of  the  paragraphs  had  not  hurt  him.  And  he 
would  not  have  been  "partaker  of  the  Divine  nature." 
as  he  now  was,  if  he  had  not  found  a  balm  in  the  com- 
mittal of  his  soreness  to  God. 

"That  is  the  work  of  that  fellow  Joyce,"  he  told 
himself. 

Twenty-four  hours  before,  if  this  utterance  had  had 
to  have  been  made  by  him,  he  would  have  said, 

"That  beast  Joyce!"  But  already,  as  a  young  soldier 
of  Christ,  the  promised  watch  was  set  upon  his  lips.  In 
the  strength  of  the  two  great  loves  that  had  come  into 
his  life — the  love  of  Christ  and  the  love  of  Zillah  Robart 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  167 

— the  scurrilous  paragraphs  affected  him  comparatively 
little. 

When  he  had  skimmed  the  papers,  attended  to  his 
correspondence,  and  to  one  or  two  other  special  items, 
he  took  pen  and  paper  and  began  to  write  to  his 
betrothed. 

His  pen  flew  over  the  smooth  surface  of  the  paper,  but 
his  thoughts  were  even  quicker  than  his  pen.  His  whole 
being  palpitated  with  love.  It  was  the  love  of  his  high- 
est ideal.  The  love  which  he  had  sometimes  dared  to 
hope  might  some  day  be  his,  but  which  he  had  scarcely 
dared  to  expect. 

The  memory  of  his  passing  fancy  for  Madge  Finis- 
terer  crossed  his  mind,  once,  as  he  wrote.  He  paused 
with  the  pen  poised  in  his  fingers,  and  smiled  that  he 
should  ever  have  thought  it  possible  that  he  was  begin- 
ning to  love  her.  *T  liked  her,  admired  her,"  he  mused. 
*T  enjoyed  her  frank,  open  friendship,  but  love  her — no, 
no.  The  word  cannot  be  named  in  the  same  breath  as 
my  feeling  for  Zillah." 

He  put  his  pen  to  the  paper  again,  and  poured  out  all 
the  wealth  of  the  love  of  his  heart  to  his  beautiful 
betrothed.  When  he  had  finally  finished  the  letter,  he 
sent  it  by  special  messenger  to  Zillah. 

He   had   not    forgotten   that    Major    H 's    second 

meeting  was  that  day.  Three  o'clock  found  him  again 
in  the  hall.  This  time  it  was  quite  full.  There  was 
a  new  sense  of  interest,  of  understanding,  present  within 
him  as  he  entered  the  place.  This  time  he  bowed  his 
head  in  real  prayer. 

The  preliminary  proceedings  were  almost  identically 
like  those  of  the  previous  occasion,  except  that  the  hymn 
sung — though  equally  new  to  Hammond — was  different 


168  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

to  either   of   those   sung  at   the   first   meeting.     But,   if 
anything,  he  was  more  struck  by  the  words  than  he  had 
been  with  those  of  the  other  hymns. 
And  how  rapturously  the  people  sang: 


*  'Till  He  come !'     Oh,  let  the  words 
Linger  on  the  trembling  chords; 
Let  the  'little  while'  between 
In  their  golden  light  be  seen ; 
Let  us  think  how  heaven  and  home 
Lie  beyond  that  'Till  He  come !' " 


This  time  a  lady,  a  returned  Chinese  missionary,  led 
prayer,  and  then  the  major  resumed  his  subject. 

"We  saw,  dear  friends,  at  our  last  meeting,"  the  grand 
old  soldier-preacher  began,  "what  were  some  of  the 
prophesied  signs  of  our  Lord's  second  coming  a;id  how 
literally  these  signs  were  being  fulfilled  in  our  midst 
to-day.  This  afternoon,  God  willing,  and  time  permit- 
ting, I  want  us  to  see  how  He  will  come;  what  will 
happen  to  the  believer;  and  also  what  effect  the  expect- 
ancy of  His  coming  should  have  upon  us,  as  believers. 

"First  of  all,  how  will  He  come?  While  Jesus,  who 
had  led  His  disciples  out  of  the  city,  was  in  the  act  of 
blessing  them.  He  suddenly  rose  before  their  eyes,  and  a 
cloud  received  Him  out  of  their  sight.  Have  you  ever 
thought  of  this  fact,  beloved,  that  the  cloud  itself  was  a 
miracle  ?  Whoever  heard  of  a  cloud  at  that  special  period 
of  the  year,  in  Palestine?  And  I  very  much  doubt  if 
anyone,  save  the  apostles,  in  all  the  country  round  about, 
saw  that  cloud.  If  you  ask  me  what  I  think  the  cloud 
was,  I  should  be  inclined  to  refer  you  to  the  24th  Psalm, 
and  say  that  the  cloud  was  composed  of  the  angel-convoy, 
who,  like  a  guard  of  honour,  escorted  the  Lord  back  to 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  169 

glory,  crying,  as  they  neared  the  gates  of  the  celestial  city, 
Tift  up  your  heads,  oh,  ye  gates,  and  let  the  King  of 
Glory  come  in !" 

'*He  went  away  in  a  cloud.  The  angels,  addressing 
the  amazed  disciples  declared  to  them  that  'He  would 
so  come  in  like  manner  as  ye  have  seen  Him  go.' 

*'It  may  be  that  to  the  letter  that  will  be  fulfilled,  and 
that  our  Lord's  return  for  His  Church  will  be  in  an 
actual  cloud.  I  think  it  is  probable  it  will.  Anyway,  we 
know  that  He  will  come  'in  the  air,'  for  Paul,  to  whom 
was  given,  by  God,  the  privilege  of  revealing  to  His 
Church  the  great  mystery  of  the  second  coming  of  our 
Lord,  and  who  said,  in  this  connection : 

"  'Behold,  I  show  you  a  mystery :  we  shall  not  all  sleep, 
but  we  shall  all  be  changed,  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye,'  when  writing  more  explicitly  to  the  church 
at  Thessalonica,  said : 

"  'For  this  we  say  unto  you  by  the  word  of  the  Lord, 
that  we  which  are  alive  and  remain  unto  the  coming 
of  the  Lord  shall  not  prevent  them  which  are  asleep.  For 
the  Lord  Himself  shall  descend  from  heaven  with  a 
shout,  with  the  voice  of  the  archangel,  and  with  the 
trump  of  God,  and  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  first. 
Then  we  which  are  alive  and  remain  shall  be  caught  up 
together  with  them  in  the  clouds,  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the 
air;  and  so  shall  ever  be  with  the  Lord.  Wherefore 
comfort  one  another  with  these  words.' 

"Now,  beloved,  can  any  words  be  plainer,  simpler, 
than  these  of  Paul's,  forming,  as  they  do,  the  climax 
to  all  that  has  gone  before  in  the  New  Testament.  Jesus 
had  Himself  said, 

"  'I  will  come  again   and  receive  you  unto  Myself.' 

"The  angels  said, 


170  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

'*  'In  like  manner  as  ye  have  seen  Him  go,  He  shall 
come  again,'  and  now  Paul  amplifies  this  manner  of  His 
coming,  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  emphasizes  the  fact 
of  that  return. 

"Now  let  us  look,  dear  friends,  at  the  separate  items 
of  that  detailed  coming.  We  have  already,  more  than 
once,  alluded  to  the  secrecy  of  the  return  of  our  Lord 
for  His  people,  and  people  are  puzzled  over  the  language 
used  by  Paul's  description  of  the  return.  'The  Lord 
shall  come  with  a  shout'  Then  the  world  at  large  will 
hear  Him  coming?  No;  we  think  not.  Or,  if  they  hear 
a  sound,  they  will  not  understand  it. 

"The  Lord's  voice  in  His  spiritual  revelations  is  never 
heard  save  by  the  Lord's  people.  But  there  is  the  voice 
of  the  archangel — how  about  that?  The  same  rule 
applies  to  that,  we  think. 

"There  were  godly  shepherds  watching  their  flocks  at 
night,  near  Bethlehem,  and  there  was  a  whole  host  of 
angels  singing,  but  the  Bethlehemites  did  not  hear.  No 
one  appears  to  have  heard  or  seen  anything  save  the 
godly  shepherds.  The  same,  we  believe,  appHes  to  the 
'trump,'  the  call  of  God. 

"In  this  connection  it  is  interesting  to  note,  a  fact  that 
probably  was  in  the  mind  of  Paul  when  he  wrote  thus 
to  the  Thessalonians.  The  Roman  army  used  three 
special  trumpet-calls  in  connection  with  departure — with 
marching. 

"The  first  meant,  'Pull  down  tents.' 

"The  second,  'Get  in  array.' 

"The  third,  'Start.' 

"Did  Paul,  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  translate  these 
three  clarion  notes  in  the  topic  of  1  Thess.  iv.  16,  after 
this  fashion : 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  171 

"1.  The  Lord  Himself.' 

"2.  'Voice  of  the  archangel.' 

"3.  The  trump  of  God.' 

''But  leaving  that,  again  I  would  emphasize  this  truth, 
that  it  is  only  the  trained  ear  of  the  spiritually-awakened 
soul  which  ever  hears  the  call  of  God.  We  believe  that 
all  Scripture  teaches  the  secrecy  as  well  as  the  sudden- 
ness of  the  rapture  of  the  church. 

"In  all  the  many  appearances  of  the  risen,  resurrected 
Lord  Jesus,  during  the  many  weeks  between  the  resur- 
rection and  the  ascension,  even  though,  on  one  occasion, 
at  least,  He  was  seen  by  500  disciples  at  once,  yet  there 
is  no  hint,  either  in  the  Word  of  God  or  in  the  records 
of  history  of  that  time,  that  Jesus  was  ever  seen  by  the 
eye  of  an  unbeliever.  And  depend  upon  it,  no  eye  will 
see,  no  ear  will  hear  Him,  when  He  comes  again,  save 
those  who  are  in  Christ. 

"  The  world  seeth  Me  no  more '  our  Lord  said,  'but 
ye  see  Me.'  'Him  God  raised  up  the  third  day,  and 
gave  Him  to  be  made  manifest,  not  to  all  the  people,  but 
unto  witnesses  that  were  chosen  before  God,  even  to 
us  who  did  eat  and  drink  with  Him  after  He  rose  from 
the  dead.' 

"When  the  voice  of  the  Father  came  from  heaven, 
witnessing  to  Jesus'  truth,  the  people  that  stood  by 
failed  to  hear  it  as  a  voice,  but  exclaimed, — 'It  thunders.' 
In  the  case  of  Paul  on  the  way  to  Damascus,  those 
with  him  heard  nothing  understandable. 

"Enoch  was  taken  secretly.  Noah  was  shut  into  the 
ark  before  the  flood  came.  Only  Israel,  at  Sinai,  and 
not  the  surrounding  nations,  understood  those  awful 
physical   manifestations    of    God's   power.      Elijah   was 


172  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

taken  secretly.  The  nation  neither  saw  nor  heard  any- 
thing of  it. 

"When  will  He  come?  I  do  not  know;  no  one  knows 
exactly;  but  this  we  do  know%  from  the  Word  of  God — 
that  nothing  remains  to  be  fulfilled  before  He  comes. 
He  may  come  before  this  meeting  closes.  Again  we 
know  by  every  sign  of  the  times  that  His  coming  can 
not  now  be  delayed  much  longer. 

"Now  to  a  very  important  feature  as  to  the  truth  of 
the  second  coming  of  the  Lord.  There  are  many  who 
argue  that  such  teaching  will  tend  to  make  the  Christian 
worker  careless  of  ,his  work,  his  life,  etc.  There  was 
never  a  more  foolish  argument  advanced. 

"First  take  a  concrete  illustration  that  gives  the  flat 
denial  to  it — namely,  that  the  most  spiritual-minded 
workers,  at  home  and  abroad,  are  those  whose  hearts 
(not  heads  only)  are  saturated  with,  not  the  doctrine 
merely,  but  the  expectancy  of  their  Lord's  near  return. 
Then,  too,  every  such  worker  finds  an  incentive  po 
redoubled  service  in  the  remembrance  that  every  soul 
saved  through  their  instrumentality  brings  the  Lord's 
return  nearer — 'hasting  His  coming' — since,  when  the  last 
unit  composing  His  Church  has  been  gathered  in.  He  will 
come. 

"Scripture,  dear  friends,  is  most  plain,  most  emphatic, 
in  its  statements  that  the  effect  of  living  in  momentary 
expectancy  of  our  Lord's  return  touches  the  spiritual 
life  and  service  at  every  point.  'We  know,'  wrote  John, 
'that  when  He  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like  Him,  for  we 
shall  see  Him  as  He  is.  And  every  man  that  hath  this 
hope  in  him  purifieth  himself,  even  as  He  is  pure.'  That, 
beloved,  is  the  general  statement.  Now  let  us  look  at 
some  of  the  separate  particular  statements. 


iN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  173 

"Writing  to  the  Philippians,  Paul  connects  heavenly 
mindedness  with  the  return  of  the  Lord  for  His  Church 
saying,  *For  our  conversation' — our  manner  of  living,  our 
citizenship — 'is  in  heaven;  from  whence  also  we  look  for 
the  Saviour,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'  To  the  Colossians 
the  great  apostle  showed  how  the  coming  of  the  Lord  was 
to  be  the  incentive  to  mortification  of  self.  'When  Christ, 
who  is  our  life,  shall  appear,  then  shall  ye  also  appear 
with  Him  in  glory.  Mortify,  therefore,  your  members 
which  are  upon  the  earth,'  etc.  James  taught  that  the 
real  cure  for  impatience  was  this  dwelling  in  the  hope  and 
expectancy  of  our  Lord's  coming  again.  'Be  ye  also 
patient,'  he  wrote ;  'stablish  your  hearts ;  for  the  coming 
of  the  Lord  draweth  nigh !'  We  live  in  an  age  which  is 
cursed  with  impatience — children,  young  men  and  women, 
parents,  business  people,  domestic  people,  pastors,  Chris- 
tian workers,  Sunday-school  teachers,  all  alike  have  their 
spiritual  lives  and  their  work  marred  by  impatience.  A 
real,  moment-by-moment  heart-apprehension  of  the  pos- 
sible coming  of  Jesus  in  the  next  moment  of  time,  is  the 
only  real  cure  for  this  universal  impatience  in  the  Chris- 
tian Church. 

"Then  take  another  great  sin  in  the  Church,  beloved 
— censoriousness.  Oh,  the  damage  it  does  to  the  one 
who  indulges  in  it,  and  the  suffering  it  causes  to  the  one 
who  is  the  victim  of  it.  But  here,  again,  a  full,  a  con- 
stant realization  of  the  near  coming  of  our  Lord  will 
check  censoriousness.  Writing  to  the  Corinthians,  in  his 
first  epistle,  Paul  says,  'Therefore,  judge  nothing  before 
the  time,  until  the  Lord  come,  who  both  will  bring  to  light 
the  hidden  things  of  darkness,  and  make  manifest  the 
counsels  of  the  hearts.' 

"The  great  quickener,  too,  of  Christian  diligence  is  to 


174  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

be  found  in  the  coming  of  the  Lord.  Peter  writes  to  us 
saying,  'But  the  day  of  the  Lord  will  come  as  a  thief 
in  the  night,  .  .  .  seeing  then  that  these  things  shall  be, 
.  .  .  what  manner  of  persons  ought  we  to  be  in  all  holy 
living  and  godliness;  looking  for  and  hasting  the  com- 
ing. .  .  .  Wherefore,  beloved,  seeing  that  ye  look  for 
such  things,  be  diligent  that  ye  may  be  found  of  Him 
in  peace,  without  spot,  and  blameless/ 

"May  I  say,  too,  in  all  gentleness  and  love,  that  it 
has  seemed  to  me,  for  years,  that  the  missing  link  in 
nearly  all  'holiness'  preaching  (so  called)  is  this  much- 
neglected  expectancy  of  our  Lord's  return.  Paul  con- 
nects holiness  and  the  second  coming  of  Christ,  in  his 
first  epistle  to  the  Thessalonians,  saying,  *The  God  of 
peace  sanctify  you  wholly;  and  I  pray  God  your  spirit, 
soul  and  body  be  preserved  blameless  unto  the  coming 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 

''The  scoff  of  the  world,  dear  friends,  against  us,  as 
Christians,  is  that  the  professed  bond  of  love  is  absent 
from  our  life.  And  here  again  God's  Word  shows  us 
that  a  real  living  in  expectancy  of  our  Lord's  return 
would  teach  us  to  love  one  another.  In  that  same  epistle 
I  have  just  quoted,  Paul  says,  'The  Lord  make  you  to 
increase  and  abound  in  love  one  toward  another,  and 
toward  all  men,  even  as  we  do  toward  you:  to  the  end 
He  may  stablish  your  hearts  unblameable  in  holiness 
before  God,  even  our  Father,  at  the  coming  of  our  Lord 
with  all  His  saints.' 

"I  have  only  time,  this  afternoon,  for  but  one  more 
of  these  references,  and  that  is  a  very  elementary  though 
a  very  essential  one.  Paul,  in  that  same  epistle,  teaches 
that  to  be  saved  means  that  we  are  saved  to  serve.     'Ye 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  175 

turned  to  God/  he  says,  'to  serve  .  .  .  and  to  wait  for 
His  Son  from  heaven/ 

"I  must  close,  friends.  But  before  I  do,  do  let  me 
beseech  every  Christian  here  this  afternoon  to  go  aside 
with  God,  and  with  His  plain,  unadulterated  Word. 
Assure  yourself  that  Jesus  is  coming  again,  that  He  is 
coming  soon,  and  that  you  are  so  living  that  you  shall 
*not  be  ashamed  at  His  coming.'  Should  He  tarry  till 
Thursday  next,  and  He  is  willing  to  suffer  me  to  meet 
you  here  again,  we  will  continue  this  great  subject  on 
the  line  of  the  three  judgments.  Let  us  close  our  meet- 
ing by  singing  hymn  number  308." 

Like  one  in  a  strange,  delicious  dream,  Tom  Hammond 
rose  with  the  others  and  sang : 

"Jesus  is  coming!     Sing  the  glad  word! 
Coming  for  those  He  redeemed  by  His  blood, 
Coming  to  reign  as  the  glorified  Lord ! 
Jesus  is  coming  again !" 

As  he  left  the  hall,  and  thought,  "How  Zillah  would 
have  enjoyed,  how  she  would  have  been  helped,  by  this 
meeting !"  he  muttered. 

"How  senseless  of  me  not  to  have  told  her  of  it  when 
I  wrote  this  morning. 

He  smiled  a  little  to  himself  as  he  murmured : 

"May  I  take  this  bit  of  remissness  as  a  sign  that  the 
Divine  love  was  predominant  within  me,  rather  than  the 
human?  Or  was  it  that  I  am  not  yet  sufficiently  taught 
in  the  school  of  human  love?" 


CHAPTER  XIXa. 
"MY  MENTOR." 

IT  was  about  the  hour  that  Tom  Hammond  entered 
the  Hall  to  listen  to  the  Major's  second  address. 
Cohen,  the  Jew,  was  in  his  workshop,  his  brain  busy  with 
many  problems,  while  his  hands  wrought  out  that  won- 
drous Temple  work. 

The  door  opened,  quietly,  and  Zillah  entered.  She 
often  came  for  a  talk  with  him  at  this  hour,  as  she  was 
mostly  sure  of  an  uninterrupted  conversation.  Her  sister, 
to  a  large  extent,  Hved  to  eat,  and  always  slept  for  a 
couple  hours  or  more  after  her  hearty  two  o'clock  dinner. 

The  young  Jew  gave  the  beautiful  girl  a  pleasant 
greeting.  Then,  after  the  exchange  of  a  few  very  gen- 
eral words,  the  pair  were  silent.  Zillah  broke  the  silence 
at  last. 

"Abraham,"  she  began,  'T  want  to  talk  to  you  on — 
on — well —  I've  something  important  to  say." 

He  eyed  her  curiously,  a  tender  Httle  smile  moving 
about  among  the  Hues  of  his  mouth.  There  was  a  new 
note  in  her  voice,  a  new  light  in  her  eyes.  He  had 
caught  glimpses  of  both  when  they  had  met  at  breakfast, 
and  again  at  dinner,  but  both  were  more  marked  than 
ever  now. 

He  had  laid  down  his  tool  at  her  first  word  of  address. 
Now  she  laid  one  of  her  pretty  plump  hands  on  his,  as 
she  went  on : 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  177 

''You  could  not  have  been  kinder,  truer,  dear  Abra- 
ham, if  you  had  been  my  own  brother,  after  the  flesh. 
I  have  looked  upon  you  as  a  brother,  as  a  friend,  as  a 
protector,  and  I  have  always  felt  that  I  could,  and  would 
make  a  confident  of  you,  should  the  needs-be  ever  arise." 

The  gentle  smile  in  his  eyes  as  well  as  his  mouth 
encouraged  her,  and  she  went  on : — 

"A  gentleman  has  asked  me  to  marry  him,  Abra- 
ham  " 

Cohen  gave  a  quick  little  start,  but  in  her  eagerness 
she  did  not  notice  it. 

"I  have  promised,''  she  continued,  "for  I  love  him,  and 
he  loves  me  as  only " 

"Whoishe,  Zillah?" 

"Mr.  Hammond,  dear!" 

His  eyes  flashed  with  the  mildest  surprise.  But,  to 
her  astonishment,  she  noticed  that  he  showed  no  anger. 

In  spite  of  all  his  usual  gentleness  she  had  half 
expected  a  little  outburst,  for  to  marry  out  of  the  Jewish 
faith,  was  equal  in  shame  almost  to  turning  Meshumed, 
and  usually  brought  down  the  curse  of  one's  nearest  and 
dearest. 

"He  is  of  the  Gentile  race,  Zillah !"  Cohen  said  quietly. 

She  noticed  that  he  said  race,  and  not  faith,  and  she 
unconsciously  took  courage  from  the  fact. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Her  lips  moved  slightly, 
but  no  sound  came  from  her.  Watching  her,  he  won- 
dered.   She  was  praying! 

Suddenly  she  lifted  her  head,  proudly  almost.     She 


178  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

suffered  her  great  lustrous  eyes, liquid  in  their  love- 
light to  meet  his,  as  she  said,  with  a  ringing  frank- 
ness : 

"Abraham !  I  have  found  the  Messiah !  He  whom  the 
Gentiles  call  the  Christ;  The  man-God,  Jesus,  is  the 
Messiah !" 

His  eyes  dwelt  fixedly  upon  her  face.  She  wondered 
that  there  was  neither  anger  nor  indignation  in  them. 

"May  I  tell  you  why  I  think,  why  I  knozv  He  is  the 
Messiah,  Abraham?"  she  asked. 

"Do,  Zillah !" 

He  spoke  very  gently,  and  she  wondered  more  and 
more.  She  made  no  remark,  however,  on  his  toleration, 
but  began  to  pour  out  her  soul  in  the  words  of  the  Old 
Testament  scriptures,  connecting  them  with  their  fulfill- 
ment in  the  New  Testament. 

Cohen,  watching  her,  thought  of  Deborah,  for  all  her 
beautiful  form  seemed  suddenly  ennobled  under  the 
power  of  the  theme  that  fired  her. 

"Now  I  know,  dear  Abraham,"  she  presently  cried, 
"How  it  is  that  Jehovah  is  allowing  our  Rabbis — you 
told  me,  you  know,  the  other  day,  of  the  one  at  Safed — 
to  be  led  to  dates  that  prove  that  Messiah  is  coming 
soon?  Now  I  know  why  God  has  allowed  our  nation 
to  be  stirred  up, — the  Zionist  movement,  the  colonization 
of  Jerusalem  and  its  neighbourhood,  and  all  else  of  this 
like — ^yes,  it  is  because  the  Christ  is  coming. 

"Only,  dear  brother,  it  is  not  as  the  Messiah  of  the 
Jews  that  He  comes  soon — He  came  thus  more  than 
1,900  years  ago — this  time,  when  He  comes,  He  will 
come  for  His  church.  His  redeemed  ones — Jew  and  Gen- 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  179 

tile  alike  who  are  washed  in  His  blood  that  was  shed 
on  Calvary  for  all  the  human  race.  For  He  was  surely 
God's  Lamb,  and  was  slain  at  the  Great,  the  last  real 
Passover,  dear  Abraham,  if  only  we  all — our  race — could 
see  this.  What  the  blood  of  that  first  Passover  lamb,  in 
Egypt,  was  in  type,  to  our  people  in  their  bondage  and 
Blood-deliverance,  so  Jesus  was  in  reality." 

Moses,  of  old,  wist  not  how  his  face  shone.  And 
this  lovely  Jewish  maiden,  as  she  talked  of  her  Lord, 
wist  not  how  all  her  lovely  face  was  transformed  as  she 
talked — glorified  would  not  be  too  strong  a  description  of 
the  change  her  theme  had  wrought  in  her  countenance. 

"And  now,  dear  Abraham,"  she  went  on,  "that  same 
Jesus  has  not  only  blotted  out  all  my  sin,  for  His  name's 
sake,  but  he  bids  me  look  for  Him  to  come  again.  When 
next  He  comes — it  may  be  before  even  this  day  closes — " 

Cohen  shot  a  quick,  puzzled  glance  at  her.  She  did 
not  notice  it  but  went  on : — 

"I  have  learned  many  things  from  the  scriptures  since 
I  have  been  going  to  the  little  Room  at  Spitalfields,  and 
from  the  Word  of  Jehovah,  Himself,  I  have  learned  that 
Jesus  may  now  come  at  any  moment. 

"He  will  come  in  the  air,  and  will  catch  away  all  His 
believing  children.  Then,  as  the  teachers  show  from 
the  Word  of  God,  when  the  church  is  gone,  there  shall 
arise  a  terrible  power,  a  man  who  will  be  Satan's  great 
agent  to  lead  the  whole  world  astray — Antichrist,  the 
Word  of  God  calls  him — then,  during  a  period,  probably 
about  seven  years  altogether,  there  shall  be  an  ever 
growing  persecution  of  those  who  shall  witness  boldly 
for  Jesus,  and — " 

"Who  will  they  be,  Zillah,"  he  interrupted,  "if  all  the 


180  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

'Church,'  as  you  say,  will  be  taken  out  of  the  world  at 
the  coming  of  Christ?" 

"One  of  the  teachers,  the  other  night,  Abraham,"  she 
replied,  said,  "that  the  natural  consequence  of  the  sudden 
taking  away  of  the  Believers  from  this  earth  would 
probably  be,  at  first,  a  mighty  revival,  a  turning  to  God. 
If  this  be  so,  then  these  converts  will  be  the  witnesses 
to  Jesus  during  the  awful  seven  years,  which  the  Word 
of  God  calls  The  Great  Tribulation." 

'Then  too,  one  of  the  teachers  at  the  Room  said,  *it 
is  possible  that  not  all  Christians  will  be  caught  up  in 
the  air  at  the  coming  again  of  Jesus,  but  only  those 
faithful  ones  who  are  found  watching,  expecting  His 
coming.  If  that  be  so — and  no  one  dare  dogmatise 
about  so  sacred  and  solemn  a  things — then  there  will  be 
thousands  of  Christians  left  behind  who  will  have  to  pass 
through  the  awful  time  of  Antichrist's  Tribulation.'  " 

Her  face  glowed  with  holy  light,  as  inspired  by  the 
thought  in  her  soul,  she  went  on  : — 

''At  first,  dear  Abraham,  our  own  race  will  return 
to  Jerusalem,  and  to  all  the  land  of  our  Father,  still 
believing  in  the  coming  of  the  Messiah.  The  temple — 
that  wondrous  Temple  for  which  you  are  working — 
will  be  reared  to  Jehovah.  The  morning  and  evening 
sacrifices  will  be  resumed.  Then  presently  the  Anti- 
christ will  make  our  people  believe  that  he  is  the  Messiah. 
Pretending  to  be  Israel's  friend  and  protector  he  will 
deceive  them  at  first,  but,  by  and  by,  he  will  try  to  force 
idolatory  upon  them,  he  will  want  to  set  up  in  our  glor- 
ious Temple,  (which  will  have  been  reared  to  Jehovah.) 
an  idol,  an  abomination. 

"The    teacher   whom    I    have   heard.    Abraham, — and 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  181 

many  of  them  are  of  our  own  race — see  from  scripture 
that  the  great  mass  of  our  people,  in  the  land  of  our 
fathers,  will  blindly  accept  this  hideous  idol  worship. 

*'But  Jehovah  will  not  let  Antichrist  have  all  his  own 
way.  Jesus,  with  all  those  who  were  caught  up  with 
Him  into  the  air,  will  come  to  the  deHverance  of  our 
people.  He  will  come,  this  time,  to  the  earth.  He  will 
fight  against  Antichrist,  will  overcome  him.  His  feet 
shall  stand  on  the  Mount  of  Olives. 

"Our  poor  deluded,  suffering  people  will  see  Him, 
as  our  own  prophets  have  said : —  "I  will  pour  out  upon 
the  House  of  David  and  upon  the  inhabitants  of  Jerus- 
alem, the  spirit  of  grace  and  of  supplication,  and  they 

SHALL   LOOK   UPON    Me    WHOM    THEY    HAVE   PIERCED,    AND 

THEY  SHALL  MOURN  FOR  HiM,  as  One  moumeth  for  his 
only  son,  and  shall  be  in  bitterness  for  Him,  as  one  that 
is  in  bitterness  for  his  first-born/' 

She  paused  abruptly,  struck  by  Cohen's  quietude  of 
manner,  where  she  had  expected  a  storm.  Gazing  up 
wonderingly  into  his  face  she  cried: — 

''Abraham,  why  are  you  thus  quiet?  Why  have  you 
not  cursed  me  for  a  Meshumed,  dear?  Can  it  be  that 
you,  too,  know  aught  of  these  glorious  truths  ?" 

There  was  sadness  and  kindness  in  his  eyes  as  he 
returned  her  pleading  glance.  But  there  was  no  trace 
of  anger. 

"I  wonder  why,  Httle  sister,"  he  began,  "I  am  not 
angry,  as  the  men  of  Israel's  faith  usually  are  with  a 
Meshumed,  even  though  the  defaulter  should  be  as  beau- 
tiful as  Zillah  Robart?" 

His  glance  grew  kinder,  as  he  went  on : — "1  began  to 


182  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

wonder  where  my  little  sister  went,  twice  a  week,  in 
the  evenings,  and,  anxious  about  her,  lest  she,  in  her 
innocence  of  heart  and  ignorance  of  life,  should  get  into 
trouble,  I  followed  her  one  night,  and  saw  that  she 
entered  a  hall,  which  I  knew  to  be  a  preaching-place  for 
Jews." 

Zillah's  eyes  were  very  wide  with  wonder.  But  she 
did  not  interrupt  him. 

"I  did  not  enter  the  place  myself,"  he  went  on,  ''but 
that  very  first  night,  while  waiting  about  for  a  few  min- 
utes, I  met  an  old  friend,  a  Jew  like  myself,  by  race, 
but  a  Christian  by  faith.  He  talked  with  me,  pointed  to 
our  scriptures,  quoted  from  the  Gentile  New  Testament, 
showed,  from  them,  how,  in  every  detail,  the  birth,  the 
life,  the  death  of  Jesus,  the  Nazarene,  fulfilled  the 
prophecies  of  our  father,  and " 

"And  you,  Abraham — "  Zillah  laid  her  hand  on  the 
Jew's  wrist,  in  a  swift  gesture  of  excitement,  ''you,  dear," 
she  cried,  "see  that  Jesus  was  the  Messiah?" 

Slowly,  almost  sorrowfully  it  seemed  to  the  eager  girl, 
he  shook  his  head. 

"I  cannot  say  all  that,  Zillah,"  he  went  on,  "I  sat  in 
a  seat,  last  night,  in  that  Hall,  where  I  could  see  you 
and  Hammond,  where  I  could  hear  all  that  was  said 
upon  the  platform,  but  where  I  knew  that  neither  you 
nor  Hammond  would  be  able  to  see  me.  All  that  I 
heard,  last  night,  dear,  has  more  than  half  convinced  me, 
but — well,  I  cannot  rush  through  this  matter,  I  have  to 
remember  that  it  has  to  do  with  the  life  beyond,  as  well 
as  this  life." 

He  sighed  a  little  wearily. 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  183 

"1  saw  the  meeting  between  Hammond  and  you, 
Zillah,"  he  went  on.  "I  had  before  begun  to  scent  some- 
thing of  Hammond's  probable  feeHng  for  you,  and  I  had 
seen  you  look  at  him  in  a  way  that,  though  you  did  not 
yourself  probably  realize  it,  meant,  I  knew,  a  growing 
feeling  for  him  warmer  than  our  maidens  usually  bestow 
on  a  Gentile.  I  saw  you  enter  the  cab  together,  and 
drive  off,  and " 

He  sighed  again.  Then  without  finishing  his  sentence, 
he  said: 

'Terhaps  I  shall  see  with  you,  Zillah,  soon.  Mean- 
while, dear " 

He  lifted  his  hands,  let  them  rest  upon  her  head,  and 
softly,  reverently,  cried  : — 

"The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee;  the  Lord  make 
his  face  shine  upon  thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee;  the 
Lord  lift  up  His  countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee 
peace." 

The  sweet  old  Nazarite  blessing  never  fell  more  tend- 
erly upon  human  ears  than  it  did  upon  Zillah  Robarts. 
Jehovah  had  been  very  gracious  to  her.  She  had  feared 
anger,  indignation  from  her  brother-in-law,  she  received 
blessing  instead. 

As  he  slowly  lifted  his  hands  from  her  head,  she  caught 
them  in  hers,  lifted  them  to  her  lips,  and  kissed  them 
gratefully. 

''May  that  blessing  fall  back  upon  your  own  head,  upon 
your  heart,  your  life,  dear  Abraham  ?''  she  cried. 

Still  holding  his  hands,  she  lifted  her  head.  An  eager 
light  filled  all  her  face,  as  she  added : — 

"It  wants  but  a   few  days  to  Passover,  dear,   I  shall 


184  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

pray  God  that  He  will  reveal  Jesus  fully  to  you  before 
that!" 

She  dropped  his  hands,  and  made  for  the  door.  "I 
hear  the  children  from  school,"  she  cried.  Then  she 
was  gone. 

Cohen  did  not  turn  to  his  work.  But  taking  a  New 
Testament  from  his  pocket,  began  to  study  anew  the 
Passion  of  Jesus,  as  recorded  in  the  Gospels. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
THE  PLACARD. 


RIDING  back  to  his  office  from  that  meeting  Tom 
Hammond  asked  himself: — ''Ought  I  to  begin  to 
make  this  near  Return  of  our  Lord  for  His  church,  the 
subject  of  my  'Prophet's  Chamber  Column'  for  to-mor- 
row's issue?" 

"I  must  seek  special  guidance  about  this,"  he  presently 
decided. 

The  cab  was  nearing  the  office  when  he  suddenly  mur- 
mured:— "He  might  come  to-day!" 

Even  as  he  murmured  the  words  his  eyes  seemed  to 
see  a  striking  way  of  exhibiting  his  new-found  faith  in 
the  Return  of  his  Lord,  and  he  came  to  a  rapid  decision. 

Lifting  the  flap  in  the  roof  of  the  cab,  he  told  the 
driver  to  go  on  to  a  certain  Sign  and  Ticket  writer's. 
Arrived  at  the  place,  he  explained  to  the  writer  that 
he  wanted  a  card  three  feet  six  inches  long,  proportionate 
in  width,  very  boldly,  handsomely  written  with  just  the 
two  words  upon  it,  in  the  order  of  his  sketch. 

He  had  taken  an  odd  piece  of  card  from  the  man's 
scrap  heap,  and  with  his  pencil  he  drew  out  his  idea, 
thus : — 


TO-DAY? 
PERHAPS! 


"How  soon  can  I  have  it?"  he  asked. 
"In  a  couple  of  hours,  sir!" 


186  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

"Pack  it  carefully  and   I  will  send  a  messenger  for 

itr 

Hammond  was  turning  from  the  counter,  when  the 
man  said : — 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  if  it  is  not  too  bold  a 
question,  may  I  ask  what  the  two  words  mean  ?" 

"They  mean,"  smiled  Tom  Hammond,  "that  Jesus 
Christ,  God's  son,  may  come  suddenly  to-day,  before  even 
you  have  time  to  finish  the  work  upon  my  order !" 

The  man's  face  wore  a  puzzled  look.  Then  suddenly 
it  brightened  a  little,  as  he  said : — 

"Ah!  I  sees-,  its  somethink  religious.  That  aint  in  my 
line,  not  a  bit,  sir.  I  aint  built  that  way.  Now,  my 
misses  is!  She's  the  best  wife  a  man  ever  had,  I  can't 
find  a  speck  o'  fault  wi'  her,  but,  there  it  is,  yer  know, 
she's  gone,  fair  gone,  sir,  on  religious  things !" 

"Do  you  love  her?  Would  you  like  to  lose  her?" 
asked  Hammond. 

"Like  to  lose  her,  sir?  why,  no,  sir!  I  believes  I 
should — I  should — well  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do, 
if  she  wur  took!" 

There  was  a  note  of  deep  gravity  in  Tom  Hammond's 
voice,  as  he  said : — 

"Then  let  that  motto  warn  you,  as  you  prepare  to 
write  it,  that  even  before  you  can  finish  it,  the  Christ  who 
is  to  come  again,  who  zinll  surely  come  now  very  soon, 
may  come.  Then,  when  you  go  to  look  for  your  wife, 
when  you  are  perhaps  expecting  her  to  call  you  to  your 
tea,  she  will  be  missing.  You  will  call  her,  search  for 
her,  yet  never  find  her.  Because,  if  she  is  a  true  child 
of   God,   she,   with   all   true   Christians,   will   have   been 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  187 

snatched  away  unseen  from  the  world,  caught  up  to  meet 
their  Lord  in  the  air." 

"Good  gracious,  sir!  yer  give  me  the  creeps!"  gasped 
the  man. 

"  'Seek  ye  the  Lord' — your  good  wife's  Lord, — 'while 
He  may  be  found,'  my  friend."  With  this  parting  word 
Tom  Hammond  left  the  shop. 

Two  hours  and  a  half  later  the  splendid  bit  of  sign 
writing  hung  upon  the  wall  of  Hammond's  room. 

It  was  a  most  striking  placard.  The  first  letter  of 
each  word  nearly  eight  inches  in  length,  and  in  brilliant 
crimson,  the  other  letters  six  inches  long  in  deep,  purple 
black. 

As  he  sat  back  and  regarded  it  where  it  hung,  Tom 
Hammond  mused  on  all  that  he  had  heard  that  after- 
noon, of  the  effects  upon  the  lives  of  those  who  possessed 
a  real  heart  apprehension  of  the  truth  of  the  near  Return 
of  the  Lord. 

"One  can  scarcely  conceive,"  he  murmured,  "what 
London,  what  all  the  civilized,  and  so-called  Christian 
world,  would  be  like,  if  every  man  and  woman,  who 
professes  to  be  a  christian,  lived  in  the  light  of  the  truth 
that  the  Lord's  return  was  near,  was  imminent.  'Every 
man'  (he  was  recalling  the  truth  quoted  that  afternoon, 
'Who  hath  this  Hope  in  him,  purifieth  himself  even  as 
He  (Jesus)  is  pure'  " 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  a  busy  one.  Many  callers 
came  in.  Everyone  noticed  the  strange  placard.  Some 
asked  what  it  meant.  Modestly,  but  with  strong  purpose, 
and  with  perfect  frankness,  Hammond  told  each  and  all 
who  enquired,  of  his  change  of  heart,  and  how  possessed 


188  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

with  the  fact  that  Christ's  return  was  imminent,  he  had 
had  the  placard  done  for  his  own,  and  for  others  quick- 
ening and  reminder. 

People  smiled  indulgently,  but  entered  into  no  argument 
with  him.  He  was  too  important  a  man  for  that,  and, 
equally,  they  dare  not  pooh-pooh  his  testimony,  wild  as 
it  appeared  to  most,  if  not  all  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
WAS  HE  MAD? 

MADGE,  a  wife  of  barely  eighteen  hours,  found  her 
husband's  church  packed  in  every  nook  and  corner 
when  she  entered  it  on  the  Sunday  morning. 

The  news  of  her  sudden  return,  and  equally  sudden 
marriage,  had  helped  to  fill  the  church,  though  the  know- 
ledge that  the  Rev.  Doig  was  to  preach  would,  in  itself, 
have  been  sufficient  to  have  gathered  an  unusually  large 
congregation. 

During  the  pastor's  sickness  the  pulpit  had  been  sup- 
plied by  various  good  men,  secured  by  the  deacons  from 
all  over  the  county.  Doig  had  preached  twice  before, 
and  was  already  a  great  favourite  with  the  people. 

The  pastor  had  not  been  well  enough  to  be  present 
at  any  service  for  many  weeks,  and  as  he  entered  the 
church  this  morning,  leaning  heavily  upon  his  wife's 
arm,  he  received  quite  an  ovation  from  the  people. 

In  spite  of  the  curiosity  and  excitement  over  Madge's 
appearance,  the  congregation  speedily  settled  down  to 
quiet  worship.  There  was  something  subducing,  quieting 
in  the  preacher's  manner.  Just  before  the  address,  the 
people  sang: — 

"Lo !    God  is  here !    let  us  adore, 

And  own  how  dreadful  is  this  place! 
Let  all  within  us  feel  His  power, 

And  silent  bow  before  His   face; 
Who  know  His  power.  His  grace  who  prove, 
Serve  Him  with  awe,  with  reverence,  love." 

With  the  singing  of  this  hymn  a  deep,  deep  solemnity 


190  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

came  down  upon  the  assembly.  It  deepened  as  the 
preacher  unfolded  the  wonders  of  the  Bible  revelation 
relating  to  the  Lord's  second  coming. 

Madge  forgot  her  husband,  as,  absorbed  by  the  wonder 
of  the  revelation,  she  drank  in  the  glorious  truth.  Had 
she  been  more  alert  in  watching  the  pastor,  she  would 
have  seen  how  restless  he  grew !  How  angrily  his  eyes 
flashed !    How  scowling  his  beetling  brows  became. 

Some  of  the  people  noticed  their  pastor's  evident  dis- 
pleasure, and  so  did  one  or  two  of  the  deacons.  But  no 
one  dreamed  that  he  would  dare  to  utter  any  dissent  to 
the  service. 

Was  he  mad?  Perhaps  he  was,  for  the  time,  as  many 
men  and  women  become,  who  nurse  a  groundless,  sense- 
less anger  and  jealousy!  He  was  jealous  of  this  man's 
hold  upon  the  people.  He  had  not  dreamed  that  any 
man  could  hold  his  congregation,  as  this  man  was  holding 
them.    He  was  angry,  too,  at  the  doctrine  preached. 

With  a  startling  suddenness  he  leaped  to  his  feet, 
forgetting  his  weakness,  as  he  cried : — 

"I  will  not  have  that  lying,  senseless  nonsense — worse 
than  nonsense — preached  in  my  church,  Mr.  Doig.  You 
will  either  announce  another  text,  and  take  a  different 
subject,  sir,  or  you  must  cease  to  preach!" 

A  slight  flush  rose  into  the  cheeks  of  the  preacher,  as 
he  half  turned  to  the  pastor,  and  in  low,  but  firm  voice, 
heard  everywhere  amid  the  sudden  strained  silence,  he 
said : — 

"Dear  Pastor,  if  you  insist,  (you  have  the  legal  right 
to  do  so,  as  pastor  of  this  church,  I  suppose)  I  will 
desist.  But  I  cannot,  if  I  preach  on,  do  other  than 
declare  all  that  God  would  have  me  do.     Why,  even  as 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  191 

we  are  here,  our  Loving  Lord  may  come,  and  if  I  faltered 
in  my  testimony  I  should  have  to  meet  Him  ashamedly 
—and—" 

"Rot!"  muttered  the  pastor.  The  word  was  heard  by 
everyone,  and  a  murmur  of  strong  dissent  ran  through 
the  place. 

With  a  white  angry  face,  and  flashing  savage  eyes, 
the  Pastor  walked  to  the  table,  and  leant  upon  it  heavily 
in  his  weakness,  as  he  cried  hoarsely,  "This  service  is 
now  concluded.  While  I  hold  the  pastorate,  no  such 
sentimental  rubbish,  as  Mr.  Doig  seems  bent  upon  giving 
us,  shall  be  voiced  from  this  platform." 

One  of  the  deacons  protested.  The  pastor  was  firm. 
Passion  had  rendered  him  temporarily  irresponsible. 
Another  of  the  deacons,  who  had  been  conferring  with 
Doig — who  had  whispered  the  facts  of  the  pastor's  evi- 
dent temporary  irresponsibility — now  urged  the  people  to 
disperse  quietly. 

Doig  walked  down  to  his  host,  and  whispered,  "if  I 
go  at  once,  it  will  help  matters."  The  pair  then  left  the 
church.  The  congregation  followed  quickly.  The  dea- 
cons remained  behind  to  confer  together  over  the  situa- 
tion, which  was  of  a  hitherto  unheard  of  character. 


The  pastor  had  left  by  the  side  door,  and  leaning  more 
heavily  than  ever  upon  Madge,  they  made  their  way  to 
the  house  of  Thaddeus  Finisterre,  Madge's  father.  They 
were  staying  there.  They  took  a  private  way,  by  which 
they  were  spared  the  unpleasantness  of  meeting  any  of 
the  congregation. 

Four  minutes  took  them  to  the  house.  Neither  of 
them  spoke  during  the  brief  journey.     For  the  first  time 


192  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

in  her  life  IMadge  knew  what  it  was  to  feel  the  touch 
of  fear.  She  had  married  the  man  by  her  side  knowing 
comparatively  little  of  his  real  character  and  tempera- 
ment. 

'There  may  be  insanity  in  his  family,"  she  mused,  as 
she  walked  by  his  side.  She  had  already  told  herself 
that  nothing  but  a  temporary  touch  of  madness  could 
have  led  to  his  outburst  in  the  church. 

Arrived  at  the  house,  the  pastor  went  straight  to  his 
room,  this  gave  Madge  an  opportunity  to  confer  with  her 
father  and  mother  a  moment. 

"His  long  anxious  illness  has  unsettled  his  brain  a 
little!"  the  mother  said.  "The  best  thing  will  be  to  take 
no  notice,  let  us  all  be  as  cheerful,  as  much  like  our 
ordinary  selves,  as  we  can.  Then,  if  we  can  persuade 
him  to  go  away  to-morrow,  I  guess  the  best  thing  for  you 
to  do,  Madge,  will  be  to  get  a  good  doctor  to  examine 
him,  and  to  prescribe  for  him." 

The  dinner-meal  which  followed,  presently,  was  fairly 
free  of  constraint.  After  dinner  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Finisterre 
slipped  away  and  left  the  husband  and  wife  to  themselves. 

Almost  immediately  the  pair  were  left,  the  pastor  began 
to  abuse  the  preacher  of  the  morning,  and  to  denounce 
the  teaching  of  the  Lord's  second  coming. 

"But,  my  dear,"  cried  Madge,  "it  is  evidently  almost 
the  most  prominent  doctrine  in  the  New  Testament. 
There  are  more  direct  references  to  it  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment, Mr.  Doig  said,  than  to  any  other  revealed  doc- 
trine." 

"But  its  not  my  doctrine,"  snapped  the  pastor,  "not 
the  doctrine  of  our  church.  It  was  scoffed  at  at  our  col- 
lege, when  /  was  a  student,  and — and — " 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  193 

Madge  gazed  wonderingly  at  him.  His  argument 
seemed  so  puerile,  if  not  actually  sinful. 

''But,"  she  cried,  ''I  don't  see  how  that  argument 
holds.  To  me,  it  sounds  like  blasphemy,  almost,  to  say 
/,  as  a  minister,  and  zve  as  a  church,  will  not  preach  the 
most  prominent  doctrine  of  the  New  Testament,  because 
of  the  foolish  abuse  of  the  teaching  by  here  and  there  a 
wild  visionary  w^ho  lets  his  fancy  and  whim  run  away  with 
his  judgment.  Suppose,  dear  Homer,  some  church  or 
minister  should  say,  'We  wont  preach  the  doctrine  of  the 
Atonement,'  w^ould  that  save  them  from  the  charge  of 
blasphemy,  when  God  says : 

"  Tf  any  man  shall  take  away  from  the  words  of  the 
book  of  this  prophecy,  God  shall  take  away  his  part  out 
of  the  Book  of  Life,  and  out  of  the  Holy  City,  and  from 
the  things  which  are  written  in  his  Book.'  " 

The  pastor  gazed  at  her  in  amazement.  Her  fashion 
of  putting  the  matter  gave  him  small  opportunity  of 
replying,  so  he  took  refuge  in  the  coarse  sneer : — 

"Have  you  turned  Doigitef 

With  a  quick  flush  in  her  cheeks,  and  sudden  flashing 
of  eye,  Madge  replied : — 

'Tf  by  that  you  mean,  do  I  see,  and  have  I  accepted 
the  revelation  of  the  Word  of  God,  as  to  the  near  coming 
of  Christ,  then  I  say  'yes.'  I  am  not  a  Doigite,  but  I  am, 
thank  God,  a  Christian !  A  very  young  one,  a  very  poor 
and  inexperienced  one,  'tis  true,  but  still  I  am  one,  and 
am  desirous  to  live  to  the  Lord  to  whom  I  have  given 
myself,  and,  after  all  I  heard  from  the  preacher  this 
morning,  I  am  more  than  ever  determined  to  serve  Christ 
wholly,  and  I  can  quite  see  how  this  wondrous  fact  of  the 
near  Return  of  our  Lord  will  be  a  new  and  mighty  force 
to  revolutionize  all  my  life." 


194  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

An  ugly  snarl  curled  the  lips  of  the  amazed,  discom- 
fited pastor,  and  he  was  just  beginning  a  cruel  little 
speech,  when  one  of  the  Deacons  was  announced. 

Madge  left  the  two  men  alone.  As  she  passed  on  to 
her  own  room  there  was  a  terrible  pain  at  her  heart,  for 
the  hideous  thought  came  to  her: — "Can  Homer  be  truly 
converted?  If  he  is,  how  can  it  be  that  he  flatly  refuses 
to  believe  what  God  has  so  plainly  revealed?" 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
FROM  THE  PROPHET'S  CHAMBER. 

TOM  HAMMOND  was  alone  in  his  editorial  office. 
He  had  come  to  the  day,  the  moment  at  last,  when 
he  felt  constrained  to  write  out  of  his  full  heart,  to  the 
readers  of  his  paper,  all  that  he  yearned  that  the  world 
should  know  of  the  imminence  of  the  Return  of  the 
Lord. 

Before  he  put  pen  to  paper  to  write  on  this  supreme 
theme  in  his  ''Prophet's  Chamber"  column,  he  bowed 
his  head  on  his  desk  and  prayed  for  guidance  and  help. 
Then  he  began  to  write  out  his  heart  fully,  telling  first 
of  his  conversion,  and  of  the  wondrous  meetings  con- 
ducted by  Major  H . 

His  whole  being  was  fired  with  holy  purpose.  "Had 
ever  a  preacher  such  a  pulpit  as  has  the  editor  of  "The 
Courier?"  he  wrote.  "Had  any  preacher  ever  so  mighty 
a  privilege,  so  great  a  responsibility  as  is  mine  to-day? 
This  paper  circulates  through  more  than  a  million  people's 
hands,  even  allowing  that  only  the  one  person  purchasing 
the  paper,  reads  it — though  one  might  almost  safely 
double  that  million,  since  there  are  very  few  of  the 
papers  which  will  not  be  read  by  tzvo,  or  more  persons. 

"This  'Prophet's  Column'  will  likely  overflow  all  its 
ordinary  banks,  as  does  the  Great  Nile  in  its  season, 
but  if  my  overflowing  but  carry  life  on  its  tide,  as  does 
the  tide  of  the  overflowing  Nile,  then,  all  will  be  well. 

"As  a  converted  Editor  of  a  great  daily,  I  have  put 
my  hand,  my  pen,  my  mind  into  the  mighty,  unerring 


196  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

hand  of  God,  praying  that  I  may  write  only  that  which 
will  reach  the  hearts  of  my  readers.  And  the  question 
comes  to  me,  'what  word  does  London,  does  England 
most  need  to-day?' 

"This — that  all  the  world  should  know,  and  realize, 
that  any  day,  aye,  any  hour,  Christ  may  return — not 
to  the  earth  but  into  the  air — "" 

Here  follow^ed  the  teaching  of  the  Gospel  and  Epistles, 

as  he  had  learned  it  from  Major  H ,  and  from  his 

own  subsequent  personal  study  of  the  Word  of  God. 

"I  appeal  to  the  most  thoughtful  of  my  readers,  I 
appeal  to  the  unthinking,  as  I  say,  'do  you  not  see  how 
a  real  belief,  in  this  near  coming  of  Christ  would  revolu- 
tionize all  our  national,  commercial,  domestic,  and  church 
Hfe.  How,  too,  it  w^ould  immediately  settle  every  social 
problem.' 

"If  our  legislators,  sitting  in  council  at  St.  Stephens, 
realized  that  before  the  present  Parliamentary  session 
could  end  in  the  ordinary  way,  that  Christ  might  come, 
what  a  speedy  end  they  would  seek  to  put  to  every 
national  iniquity. 

"The  hideous  drink  traffic  would  be  swept,  root  and 
branch,  from  our  land.  And,  in  sweeping  that  curse 
away,  the  awful  problem  of  the  unemployed,  the  home- 
less, the  starving,  all  that  inures  to  our  national  poverty 
would  be  swept  away. 

"The  shameful  opium  traffic  with  China;  the  national 
Greed  for  territory ;  the  Traffic  in  White  Slaves ;  and 
every  other  national  iniquity  would  be  abolished. 

"Christian  churches,  (so-called)  would  become  worthy 
of  the  name  Christian.  All  those  bits  of  devilish  device 
used  to  extract,  and  extort  money  from  the  pockets 
of    the    people   would    end,    as    by    magic.      Theatricals 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  197 

would  be  left  to  the  theatres;  nigger  entertainments 
would  be  left  to  the  music-halls ;  the  church  would  leave 
all  these  things  to  their  master — the  Devil. 

'In  social  life,  people  would  pay  their  debts ;  the  wild, 
mad,  sinful  extravagance  that  marks  the  life  of  to-day, 
would  cease.  Christians  would  love  one  another.  Every 
Evangelical  denomination  would  be  in^^r-denominational 
in  the  truest  sense,  and  be  one  wholly  in  their  Crucified, 
Risen,  coming  Lord.  A  love  for  the  poor  fallen  world, 
such  as  has  never  been  since  our  Lord  spent  Himself  in 
service,  would  be  the  order  of  the  day,  and  not  the 
vision  of  a  few.  Every  missionary  society  would  have 
more  men  and  women  and  money  than  they  actually 
needed. 

"But,  even  as  I  pen  this  millenium-like  picture,  I  know, 
from  the  Word  of  God,  that  it  cannot  be  before  Christ 
comes.  But  I  seek  to  arouse  every  Christian  to  God's 
call  to  them  on  this  matter.  You,  who  profess  to  be 
Christ's,  dare  not  refuse  this  truth,  save  at  the  peril  of 
losing  the  Crozvn  of  Life. 

"The  vast  bulk  of  the  churches,  I  know,  preach,  that 
the  world  will  continually  improve  until  the  earth  shall 
be  fit  for  Christ  to  come  and  reign.  But  I  defy  any 
cleric  or  layman  to  show  me  a  single  word  of  scripture 
that  gives  the  faintest  colour  to  that  belief,  or  statement 
— unless  the  person  wrests  the  passage  so  advanced  from 
its  distinctly  marked  dispensational  setting. 

"Things  (spiritual)  are  growing  worse  and  worse. 
There  is  a  wholesale  down-gradeism,  too  awful  to  con- 
template. 'Priest  and  people  have  erred  alike !'  I  take 
up  the  of^cial  organ  of  a  section  of  the  church  that  has 
ever  been  regarded  as  the  most  out-an-out,  in  all  that 
pertains  to  Evangelical  truth,  and  I  find  its  great  head 


198  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

saying  'The  Bible  is  not  the  sole  spiritual  guide  for  the 
christian,  for,  practically,  the  Bible  is  a  dead  book !' 

''The  chief  leader-writer  of  that  same  paper — himself 
usually  regarded  as  the  soundest  of  Believers,  the  most 
trenchent  of  all  Evangelical  preachers,  writes  in  one  of 
a  series  of  articles,  That  the  so-called  Finished  zi'ork 
of  Qirist,  is  a  doctrine  not  to  be  found  in  scripture,' 
and  glories  in  the  fact  that  'ive  never  have,  and,  I  trust, 
we  never  shall,  preach  this  doctrine.' 

"All  this  but  proves  the  truth  of  the  New  Testament 
prophecies,  'Perilous  times  shall  come,'  'Evil  men  and 
seducers  shall  wax  worse  and  worse,  deceiving,  and  being 
deceived/  If  only  we  could  all  be  induced  to  read  the 
signs  of  the  times  in  the  light  of  scripture !  we  should 
then  realize  that  we  were  in  the  thickest  darkness  of 
the  world's  blackest  night,  the  darkness  imm.ediately  pre- 
ceeding  the  dawn,  and  we  sliould  be  looking  for  'the 
Morning  Star.'  " 

Here,    writing   with    swift,    eager   pen,    he   went   over 

the  ground  covered  by   Ala j or  H ,  as   regarded  the 

signs  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord — the  movement  among 
the  Jews ;  their  excitement,  as  a  race,  over  the  date 
discovery  5,666;  the  preparations  for  the  re-building  of 
the  Temple.  Then  the  increased  effort  in  the  Foreign 
Mission  fields.  The  growth  of  the  spirit  of  lawlessness 
in  the  world,  and  in  the  church.  The  multiplicity  of 
spiritualistic  devices — doctrine  of  Devils.  The  awaken- 
ing of  all  real,  true,  spiritually-minded  Bible  students 
to  the  fact  of  Christ's  near  Return.  And  the  great, 
but  often  disregarded  sign,  ''the  scoffers  who  shall  say 
where  is  the  promise  of  His  coming?  for,  since  the 
Fathers  fell  asleep,  all  things  continue  as  they  were 
from  the  beginning  of  creation." 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   F.YE  199 

"But  He  zvill  come!  He  is  near  at  hand!  Every  sign 
of  the  times  proclaims  this !  It  is  night,  now,  and  He 
will  come  as  a  thief  in  the  night.  At  any  moment  now 
we  may  look  for  Him.  Before  this  news-sheet,  damp 
from  the  press,  is  in  the  hands  of  my  readers,  Christ 
may  have  come  and  taken  away  every  one  of  His  own 
Beheving  people — /  shall  be  missing,  another  here,  and 
another  there  will  be  missing. 

"And  when  a  puzzled,  troubled  London  shall  be  gath- 
ering in  business,  that  saying  shall  have  come  to  pass, 
'The  one  shall  be  taken,  the  other  left!'  (For  though 
this  word  is  primarily  Jezuish  in  its  application,  it  will 
yet  have  a  measure  of  meaning  for  the  world,  when  the 
Church  is  taken  away). 

"May  every  Christian  be  ready  to  meet  His  Lord, 
when  He  shall  come,  and  every  unready,  unsaved  soul 
who  reads  these  'Prophet's  Chamber'  columns,  seek  the 
face  of  God  through  faith  in  the  Atoning  work  of  Jesus 
Christ.  For,  believe  me,  His  Return  is  very  near,  to 
some  of  us  the  sound  of  His  footfalls  is  even  now  in  our 
ears." 

He  bent  his  head  over  the  written  sheets,  praying  God 
to  bless  the  message.  Then  an  interruption  came.  A 
knock  at  the  door,  and  his  sub,  Ralph  Bastin  entered. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
PASSOVER! 

COHEN,  the  Jew,  blew  out  the  candle,  and  set  the 
stand  aside.  The  knees  of  his  trousers  w^ere  pressed 
and  dusty.  He  had  just  been  over  the  whole  house, 
lighted  candle  in  hand,  and  had  searched  every  nook 
and  crannie,  every  cupboard,  every  shelf,  under  the  edge 
of  every  carpet,  looking  for  the  faintest  sign  of  leaven 
in  the  form  of  bread,  cake,  or  biscuit  crumb.  He  had 
found  nothing,  and  went  to  his  room  to  bathe  and  change 
his  clothing. 

"What  of  you,  Zillah?"  he  had  asked  the  lovely  girl, 
earlier  in  the  day.  "With  your  newly-espoused  faith 
in  the  Nazarene,  shall  you  partake  of  the  lamb  wuth  us?" 

"Certainly,  I  w^ill,"  she  replied,  "only  I  shall  take  the 
meal  more  in  the  spirit  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  of  the 
Christian  Church.     And  A.braham " 

Her  eyes,  as  they  were  lifted  to  his,  swam  with  tender, 
pitying  tears,  as  she  added : 

"All  the  time  I  shall  be  praying  that  you  may  meet 
the  Christ  of  God,  Jesus  of  Nazareth;  and  while  you 
seek  to  remember  our  people's  deliverance  from  the  land 
of  Bondage,  I  shall  be  praying  that  you,  dear  Abram, 
may  be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  the  legalism  of 
our  race." 

******* 

The  Passover  table  was  spread  in  Cohen's  house.  The 
arrangement  of  that  table  was  a  curious  mixture  of 
Mosaic  and  Rabbinical  command.     In  the  case  of  all  but 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  201 

really  very  pious  Jews  of  this  day,  the  real  and  actual 
Passover  is  not  kept. 

Passover — (chag  Appesach  of  the  Jews)  must  have 
a  lamb  roasted  to  make  it  the  real  feast,  the  ordinary 
Jew  to-day,  contents  himself  with  an  egg,  and  a  burnt 
shank-bone  of  mutton,  and  unleavened  cakes. 

Cohen's  Passover  Feast  always  included  a  small  lamb. 
Still,  Rabbinical  lore  and  Bible  command  were  curiously 
mixed  in  the  Cohen  celebration. 

The  table,  to-night,  had  an  egg  according  to  Rabbinical 
order,  but  there  was  a  tiny  roast  lamb  as  well.  There 
was  the  glass  dish  of  bitter  herbs ;  the  salt  water,  typify- 
ing the  tears  of  Israelitish  misery  in  Egypt;  a  dish  of 
almonds,  apples,  and  other  fruit,  chopped  and  mixed, 
represented  the  lime  and  mortar  of  the  Brick-making  in 
the  Land  of  Bondage. 

Chervil  and  parsley  were  there,  and  lettuce.  A  large 
pile  of  unleavened  cakes,  a  big  coloured  glass  ewer  with 
unfermented  wine  and  water,  and  many  other  items 
considered  to  be  the  orthodox  thing  at  the  Feast. 

All  the  Cohen  household  was  there.  Zillah,  radiant 
with  the  glow  of  the  new  life  in  Christ  that  had  come  to 
her. 

Rachel,  her  sister,  was  red-eyed  and  sullen.  Zillah 
had  been  pleading  with  her  to  open  her  mind,  and  her 
heart  to  the  Christian  teaching  of  the  Messiah  who  had 
come,  and  who  had  atoned  for  all  the  race,  Jew  and 
Gentile  ahke. 

Angry  and  sullen,  the  wife  had  said  hard  things  of 
Zillah.  Her  frivolous,  irresponsible  nature  was  more 
than  satisfied  with  the  barest  form  of  the  faith  of  her 
race. 


202  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

The  two  children  were  full  of  suppressed  excitement, 
the  elder — the  boy — especially. 

Cohen,  the  head  of  the  house,  was  singularly  quiet 
and  grave.  His  eyes  had  a  far-away  look  in  them.  He 
looked  like  a  man  moving  in  a  trance. 

Presently  the  boy,  (he  had  been  carefully  coached) 
asked,  according  to  the  usual  formula: 

''What  mean  ye,  father,  by  this  Service  ?" 

Cohen's  eyes  stared  over  the  head  of  his  son,  and  in 
a  voice  very  unlike  its  usual  tones,  replied: — 

''It  is  the  Sacrifice  of  Jehovah's  Passover,  who  halted 
by  the  blood-sprinkled  houses  of  our  fathers  in  Egypt, 
that  the  destroying  angel  should  come  not  nigh,  zvhen 
He  smote  the  Egyptians,  but  preserved  our  fathers." 

''Will  our  people  ever  do  this,  father?"  queried  the 
boy. 

"Till  Messiah  come,  they  will,  dear  son  ?"  The  strained 
gaze  of  Cohen,  as  he  answered,  was  as  though  he  was 
trying  to  pierce  Time's  veil,  and  see  the  coming  Messiah 
approaching. 

''When  will  Messiah  come,  father?''  continued  the  boy. 

"To-night,  perhaps,  my  son.  Set  His  chair!  Open 
the  door!" 

Swiftly,  but  with  remarkable  quietude,  for  a  child, 
the  boy  placed  a  chair  at  the  table,  then,  stepping  briskly, 
silently  to  the  door,  he  set  it  wide,  open,  and  left  it  thus, 
and  returned  to  his  place  by  the  table. 

Rachel  took  the  ewer  and  poured  out  a  little  wine  and 
water  into  each  glass.  In  her  sullenness,  as  she  came 
to  Zillah's  glass,  she  slopped  the  wine  over  the  edge. 
The  children  glanced  curiously  from  the  spilled  wine 
to  the  face  of  their  aunt,  then  at  their  father's  face. 

Zillah's  face  flushed;  Cohen's  grew  pale,  and  set  in  a 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  203 

sharp  spasm  of  pain.  No  word  was  said,  each  took  up 
their  glass,  and  drank  the  first  cup  of  blessing. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  then  Cohen  spread  his 
hands,  bowed  his  head,  and  repeated  "The  Blessing: — " 

''The  Lord  bless  us  and  keep  us;  the  Lord  make  His 
face  shine  upon  us  and  he  gracious  unto  us.  The  Lord 
lift  up  the  light  of  his  countenance  I'pon  us  and  give  us 
peace." 

Under  her  breath,  yet  distinctly  heard  by  Cohen,  in 
the  solemn  hush  that  followed  the  Blessing,  Zillah  mur- 
mured : — 

"But  now,  in  Christ  Jesus,  ye  who  sometimes  were 
afar  off,  are  made  nigh  by  the  blood  of  Christ.  For 
He  is  our  Peace." 

Cohen  glanced  quietly  at  her.  She  met  the  glance 
with  one  of  intense  yearning.  He  translated  it  rightly, 
as  meaning  'Tf  only  you  could  see  this  truth?" 

There  were  two  bowls  of  water  set  on  a  side-board. 
Cohen  and  his  wife  rinsed  their  hands  in  one  bowl,  Zillah 
and  the  two  children  in  the  other. 

Addressing  himself  to  his  son,  more  than  to  the  others, 
Cohen,  when  they  had  returned  to  the  table,  as  the  head 
of  the  house  was  instructed  to  do,  explained  why  they 
sat  at  the  Feast : — 

"Our  Fathers,  when  they  took  the  Feast  for  the  first 
time  in  Egypt,  my  son,  took  it  standing,  with  their  loins 
girt,  and  their  staff  in  hand,  for  they  were  starting  on  that 
great  journey  that  eventually  lasted  forty  years.  But 
we,  their  descendents,  eat  the  feast  to-day,  sitting  at  our 
ease,  as  a  symbol  that  our  people  have  been  delivered 
from  the  cruel  bondage." 

Then  the  first  Hallel  was  repeated. — Psalms  113,  and 
114.     The  second  cup  of   Blessing  was  taken  by  each. 


204  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

Then  Cohen  asked  a  Blessing  on  each  kind  of  food  on 
the  table.  Then  he  carved  a  portion  of  lamb  for  each 
one,  they  took  their  seats,  and  the  meal  began. 

The  children  were  excused  from  eating  the  stinging 
bitter  herbs.  But  Cohen,  Rachel,  and  Zillah,  each  took  a 
little  with  their  lamb  and  unleavened  bread. 

Conversation  became  fairly  general  over  the  meal, 
except  that  Rachel's  sullen  anger  increased,  and  she  kept 
silent. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  meal,  the  third  cup  of  Bless- 
ing was  drunk,  and  Cohen  repeated  the  115,  116,  117, 
118,  Psalm.  At  the  close  of  the  Hallel,  the  fourth,  and 
last  cup  of  Blessing  was  taken.    The  Feast  was  over. 

A  sudden  silence  fell  upon  them  all.     No  one  moved, 

no  one   spoke,   for  a   moment.      Suddenly  Zillah   broke 

the  dead  silence.     She  had  a  glorious  voice,  and  she  let 

it  ring  out  in  that  wondrous  song: — 

"Not  all  the  blood  of  beasts 
On  Jewish  aUars  slain 
Could  give  the  guilty  conscience  peace. 
Or  wash  away  our  stain." 

No  one  interrupted.  Cohen  could  not,  for  the  thrall 
of  some  strange,  new  power  was  upon  him.  His  wife 
was  furious — but  kept  her  fury  bottled  up.  The  children 
were  delighted,  they  loved  to  hear  their  aunt  sing,  and 
to  the  amaze  of  their  father  and  mother — they  joined  in 
the  singing,  for,  with  other  children,  they  had  often 
of  late  been  to  the  evening  meeting  for  Jewish  children. 
And  Zillah,  who  had  talked  with  them,  believed  that 
they  loved  the  Christ. 

Without  a  break,  the  three  voices  sang  on : 

"But  Christ  the  Heavenly  Lamb, 
Takes  all  our  sins  away ; 
A  sacrifice  of  nobler  name, 

And  richer  Blood  than  they. 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  205 

"My  faith  would  lay  her  hand 
On  that  meek  head  of  Thine, 
While  as  a  penitent  I  stand, 
And  here  confess  my  sin. 

"My  soul  looks  back  to  see 
The  burden  Thou  didst  bear 
When  hanging  on  the  accursed  tree, 
And  knows  her  guilt  was  there. 

"Believing  we  rejoice 
To  feel  the  curse  remove ; 
We  bless  the  Lamb  with  cheerful  voice, 
And  trust  His  bleeding  love." 

Again,  for  full  thirty  seconds,  as  the  glorious  song 
finished,  there  was  an  absolute  silence,  save  for  the 
ricketting  of  Rachel's  chair,  as  she  moved  in  pettish 
anger  on  her  seat. 

Zillah  had  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  Cohen's  face  all 
the  time  she  was  singing,  and  had  seen  a  strangely  won- 
drous light  slowly  gather  in  his  eyes.  She  had  known, 
for  days,  that  he  was  very,  very  near  to  the  point  of 
acceptance  of  Christ.  Even  as  they  had  gathered  at  the 
table  of  the  Passover,  she  was  not  sure,  but  that  in  all 
but  profession  and  testimony,  he  was  a  Christian. 

Now  he  suddenly  broke  the  silence. 

**Sing  the  last  two  verses  again,  Zillah"  he  said. 

''My  soul  looks  back  ta  see 
The   burden  Thou   didst  bear 
When  hanging  on  the  accursed  tree, 
And  knows  her  guilt  was  there." 

Zillah's  glorious  voice  rang  out.  And  now,  even  to 
her  wonder,  Cohen's  deeper  tones  joined  hers.  Her  heart 
leaped  as  she  noted  the  emphasis  he  put  upon  the  ''My 
soul." 

She   sang  on.     His  voice   sang  on   too.     Then  came 


206  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

the  last   verse,   and   in  a  perfect  burst  of  triumph,   his 
voice  rang  out : — 

"Believing  /  rejoice 
To  feel  the  curse  remove ; 
/  bless  the  Lamb  with  cheerful  voice. 
And  trust  His  bleeding  love  !" 

It  was  a  strangely  ecstatic  moment  for  Zillah.  Tears 
flooded  her  eyes,  she  tried  to  speak,  but  her  emotion 
choked  her. 

Cohen  stood  up.  His  face  was  ablaze  with  the  wonder 
of  the  revelation  that  had  come  to  him.  He  spread  his 
hands  upward,  and  his  eyes  were  lifted  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, as  he  cried  : — 

"Thou  loving  Christ!  Thou  Precious  Jesus!  I  am 
Thine — thine — THINE — !" 

Then  he  remembered  his  wife. 

''Rachael,  dear  heart,"  he  cried,  as  he  moved  to  her  side. 
"Machael,  wife  of  my  heart.     Jesus  is  the  Messiah !" 

"Bah!"  she  cried.  With  a  thrust  of  her  hand  and  foot, 
she  kept  him  from  her.  Then  in  tones  of  withering 
scorn  and  disgust,  she  cried: 

"Mehusmed !" 

He  bent  over  her  very  tenderly,  stooping  to  meet  her 
eyes,  and  trying  to  take  her  hand. 

The  two  children  clung  to  Zillah,  and  the  boy  sud- 
denly began  to  pipe  out,  in  his  clear  treble,  the  hymn  so 
beloved  of  Jewish  children  who  attend  the  mission  meet- 
ings. 

"Come   to   the    Saviour,     Make   no    delay," 

Rachael  shot  a  fiercely  angry  glance  in  the  boy's  direc- 
tion, then  without  looking  at  her  uhsband,  she  thrust 
at  him,  to  prevent  his  taking  her  hand,  as  she  cried : — 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  207 

"Accursed!     Mehusmed!     Don't  touch  me!** 

"But,  Rachael !"  he  began  tenderly. 

She  flung  herself  sharply  round  upon  him  and  spat 
full  in  his  face.  Then  she  turned  sharply  from  him 
again. 

A  full  half  minute  went  by.  The  room  grew  so  eerily 
still  that  it  startled  her.  She  turned  to  gaze  where  the 
quartette  had  been. 

The  room  was  empty  save  for  herself ! 

With  a  cry  she  started  to  her  feet.  They  could  not 
have  gone  out  of  the  door  for  her  chair  had  all  the  time 
stood  right  in  the  way.  What  was  this  then  that  had 
happened  ? 

Her  breath  came  hot  and  laboured.  Her  eye-balls 
bulged  horribly!  A  reeling  sickness  began  to  steal  over 
her.    She  dropped  back,  terrified,  in  her  chair,  gasping : — 

"Zillah  said  this  morning  "The  Christ  will  come  soon, 
suddenly,  then  those  who  are  His,  will  be  taken,  unseen, 
unheard,  from  the  world !" 

With  a  sharp,  anguished  cry,  she  let  her  bulging,  terror- 
filled  eyes  sweep  the  room  again  as  she  cried : — 

"And  my  children,  too !" 

Her  eyes  were  tearless,  but  dry,  hard  sobs  shook  all 
her  frame. 

The  next  moment  a  kind  of  frenzy  seized  her.  She 
rushed  to  the  front  door,  and  into  the  street.  She 
would  find  out  if  any  one  else  was  missing. 

A  little  crowd  was  on  the  pavement.  A  hansom  cab 
stood  by  the  curb.  The  fare  was  standing  on  the  front 
board.  He  was  a  minister  of  some  kind.  He  wore  a 
M.B.  waistcoat,  a  clerical  collar,  a  soft,  wide-brimmed, 
black  felt  hat.  He  glanced  up  at  the  driver's  seat,  as  he 
cried : — 


208  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

''But  some  one,  surely,  must  have  seen  what  became 
of  him.  If  he  fell  off  his  box  in  a  fit,  where  is  his 
body?" 

"1  seed  him  one  hinstant,"  cried  a  voice  from  the 
crowd,  "I  wur  lookin  straight  at  'im,  'cos  I  sed  to  myself, 
taint  often  as  yer  see  a  kebby  wear  a  white  'at,  now-a- 
days.  Then,  while  I  wur  starin'  at  'im.  he  sort  o'  dis- 
appeared, the  reins  fell  on  the  roof  o'  the  keb,  the  'oss 
stopped,  an — " 

"He's  gone !"  shrieked  a  woman's  voice. 

It  was  Rachael.  Bare-headed,  dressed  in  all  her  festal 
finery,  she  had  just  rushed  dow^n  the  steps  of  the  house, 
and  heard  the  question  and  answer  as  to  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  hansom  driver.  The  crowd  turned  and  faced 
her,  her  shrill  tones  had  startled  them. 

"He's  gone  to  Jehovah !"  she  screamed  again.  "My 
husband,  my  sister,  my  two  children — we  were  at  Pass- 
over— we " 

With  a  piercing  shriek  she  flung  up  her  arms,  laughed 
hideously  and  fell  in  a  huddled  heap  on  the  bottom  step 
of  the  flight. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
"THIS  SAYING  SHALL  COME  TO  PASS." 

TOM   HAMMOND   greeted   his   sub   most   heartily. 
Ralph   had   been  away,   in   Paris,   for  a   fortnight, 
partly  on  business,  partly  for  a  change. 

As  soon  as  their  greetings  were  exchanged,  he  turned 
eagerly  to  Hammond,  as  he  said : — 

"But  I  say,  old  man,  what  on  earth  is  all  this  jargon 

you  wrote  me  about,  the  return  of  the  Christ,  and " 

He  paused  suddenly.     His  eyes  had  just  caught  sight 
of  the  great  placard.     His  gaze  was  riveted  on  it.     He 
read  the  two  words  aloud: — 
'Today?    Perhaps!'' 

In  a  voice  of  wondering  amaze,  he  gasped : — 
"What's  that,  Tom?    What  does  it  mean?" 
Tom   Hammond   repeated,   in  a   few   sentences,   what 
he  had  previously  written  to  his  friend,  as  to  his  con- 
version, then,  passing  on  to  the  subject  of  the  Lord's 
second  coming,  he  said : 

"I  am  so  impressed,  Ralph,  with  the  imminence  of 
our  Lord's  return,  that  I  have  had  that  placard  done 
to  arrest  the  attention  of  callers  upon  me,  and  give  me 
an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  them  about  their  eternal 
destiny.  To-day,  too,  I  have  been  impressed  so  with 
the  necessity  of  speaking  to  the  world — "The  Courier's" 
world,  I  mean  of  course — on  this  great,  this  momentus 
subject,  that  I  have  made  it  the  subject  of  my  'Prophet's 
Chamber'  column." 

He  gathered  up  the  sheets  of  his  M.S.  he  had  written. 


210  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

and  passed  them  over  the  table  to  Ralph  Bastin. 

"You  will  see,  I  have  written  it  in  the  most  simple, 
almost  colloqual  style,  Ralph,"  he  said.  "I  wanted  it 
to  be  a  man's  quiet,  earnest,  simple  utterance  to  his  fellow 
man,  and  not  a  journalist's  article." 

Ralph  Bastin's  eyes  raced  over  the  papers.  His  face 
was  a  strange  study,  while  he  read,  reflecting  a  score 
of  different,  ever-changing  emotions,  but  amid  them  all 
never  losing  a  constant  deepening  amaze. 

As  he  finished  the  last  sheet,  he  looked  Tom  Hammond 
hard  and  searchingly  in  the  face. 

*'My  dear  Tom,"  he  began.  His  voice  was  very  grave, 
very  serious.  "You'll  ruin  The  Courier!  You  will  ruin 
yourself  !    The  world  will  call  you  mad !" 

"They  called  my  Lord  mad,  Ralph,  and  they  have  called 
His  servants  mad,  over  and  over  again,  ever  since." 

There  was  not  a  shadow  of  cant  in  his  voice  and 
manner,  as  he  went  on : — 

"The  word  of  our  God,  Ralph — which  is  the  only  real 
rule  of  life,  tells  us  that  Christ,  whose  name  I  profess, 
said : — 

"  'Whosoever  shall  confess  me,  before  men,  him  will 
I  confess  also  before  my  Father  which  is  in  Heaven.  .  .  . 
If  any  man  will  come  after  Me,  let  him  deny  himself, 
and  take  up  his  cross  daily,  and  follow  I\Ie.  For  whoso- 
ever will  save  his  life  shall  lose  it :  but  whosoever  will 
lose  his  life,  for  My  sake,  the  same  shall  save  it.  For 
what  is  a  man  advantaged,  if  he  gain  the  whole  world 
and  lose  his  own  soul.  .  .  . 

"  'For  whosoever  shall  be  ashamed  of  me  and  of  My 
words.'  {'Surely  I  come  quickly/  Ralph,  is  one  of  His 
very  last  recorded  words,)  *of  him  shall  the  Son  of  Man 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  211 

be  ashamed,  when  He  shall  come  in  His  own  glory,  and 
in  His  Father's,  and  of  the  holy  angels.'  " 

Tom  Hammond  leant  forward  in  his  chair  to  lay  his 
hand  on  the  wrist  of  the  other,  to  plead  with  him.  But, 
with  an  exclamation  of  angry  impatience,  Ralph,  cried: 

"Hang  it,  old  man,  you  must  be  going  dotty!" 

With  an  expression  of  annoyance,  almost  amounting 
to  disgust,  he  swung  round  on  his  heel. 

"Look  here,  Tom,"  he  began. 

He  swirled  back  to  meet  his  friend  face  to  face. 

Then,  with  a  startled  cry,  he  stared  at  the  chair,  in 
which,  an  instant  before,  Tom  Hammond  had  been  sitting. 

The  chair  was  empty ! 

"Good  God !"  he  gasped. 

Instinctively  he  knew  what  had  happened !  Involun- 
tarily his  eyes  travelled  to  the  Placard,  and  in  the  same 
moment  he  recalled  the  closing  words  of  Tom  Ham- 
mond's M.S.  which  he  had  just  read: — 

"  'Then  shall  it  come  to  pass,  that  which  is  written, 
"One  shall  be  taken,  the  other  left.'  " 

A  strange,  unnatural  trembling  seized  him.  He  drop- 
ped into  the  chair  he  had  been  occupying,  and  stared 
at  the  empty  revolving  chair  opposite. 

"Good God!"      He    slowly    repeated    the    words. 

There  was  no  thought  of  irreverence  in  the  utterance. 
It  was  the  unconscious  acknowledgment  of  God's  Pres- 
ence and  Power. 

For  a  time — he  never  knew  how  long — he  sat  still 
and  silent  like  a  man  stunned.  Then,  as  his  eyes  travelled 
slowly  to  where  the  sheets  of  M.S.'s  lay,  he  smiled  wear- 
ily, drew  them  towards  him,  and  took  his  stylo  from  his 
pocket.     Putting  the  most  powerful  pressure  of  his  will 


212  IN  THE  TWINKLING   OF  AN   EYE 

upon  himself,  he  began  to  write  after  the  last  works  pen- 
ned by  his  translated  chief : — 

(P.S.— Written  by  the  sub-editor  of  'The  Courier." 
By  the  time  this  printed  sheet  is  being  read,  the  world 
will  have  learned  that  a  section  of  the  community  has 
been  suddenly  taken  from  our  midst.  The  Editor  of 
The  Courier,  the  giant  mind  and  kindly  heart  of  Tom 
Hammond,  have  been  taken  from  us. 

The  writer  of  this  postscript,  who  was  in  the  room, 
v/hen  the  "Prophet"  of  The  Courier  w^as  taken,  was  in 
the  act  of  scorning  his  message  as  to  the  nearing  of  the 
great  translation.  "In  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye"  he  was  gone. 

The  writer  has  not  left  the  room  since,  and  has  no 
means  of  knowing  who  else  among  those  known  to  him 
are  missing, — not  many  personal  acquaintances,  he  fears, 
since  one's  personal  clique  has  never  shown  any  very 
marked  signs  of  what  one  has  hitherto  considered  an 
ultra  type  of  Christianity,  a  condition  of  "righteous  over- 
much." 

"When  we  pass  out  of  this  room,  presently,  and  touch 
the  great  outside  world  once  more,  what  shall  we  find? 
How  soon  will  it  be  generally  known  that  a  section  of 
the  community — a  larger  section,  maybe,  than  we  con- 
ceive possible — has  been  silently,  suddenly,  secretly  taken 
from  our  midst?  What  will  follow?  Where  are  the 
prophets  who  shall  teach  us  where  we  are,  and  what 
we  may  expect?  Does  the  end  of  the  world  follow 
next?  Is  there  any  order  of  events,  specified  in  the 
Bible,  that  follows  this  mysterious  translation,  if  so, 
what  is  it  ?    Who  will  show  us  these  things  ? 

"Again,  since  I,  the  writer  of  this  postscript,  am  left, 
while  my  friend.  Hammond,  is  taken,  why  am  I  left,  and 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  213 

why  shall  I  find — as  of  course  I  shall  when  I  begin  to  go 
abroad  among  mine  acquaintance — hundreds  of  others 
left?  I  have  been  christened,  confirmed,  have  occasion- 
ally 'communicated,' — this  is  the  clerical  term,  though  as 
I  write,  it  occurs  to  me  that  there  must  have  been  some 
flaw,  somewhere,  in  the  'communicating.' 

'*I  have  always  supposed  myself  a  Christian  by  virtue 
of  these  things,  to  which  a  clean,  decent  life  has  been 
added.  Thousands  upon  thousands,  I  feel  sure,  will 
be  puzzled  by  this  same  contemplation,  when  this  won- 
derful Translation  becomes  generally  known. 

"If  we  are  not  made  Christians  by  christening,  con- 
firmation, communicating,  why  have  we  always  been 
taught  so,  by  our  clergy?  How  many  of  these  same 
clergy  shall  we  find  left  behind. 

''And  I  suppose  there  will  have  been  some  kind  of 
kindred  process  at  work  among  the  Nonconformists 
bodies — in  pulpit  and  pew,  aHke.  For  ourselves,  we 
have  come  little  in  contact  w^ith  Nonconformity,  but, 
if  what  is  accepted  generally,  to-day,  as  to  the  religious 
situation,  be  true — that  the  curse  of  the  Ritualism  of  the 
'Establishment,'  finds  its  parralel  in  the  Rationalism,  Uni- 
tarianism.  Socialism,  etc.,  of  Nonconformity — then  I  shall 
expect  to  find  as  many  Nonconformists,  lay  and  min- 
isterial, left  behind  from  this  mysterious,  spiritual  trans- 
lation, as  churchmen." 

There  came  a  tap  at  the  door.  The  messenger  boy 
Charley,  appeared.  He  glanced  towards  the  empty  Edi- 
tor's chair,  then  stammered. 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir,  I  thought  Mr.  Hammond  was  here, 
sir.  They  have  jest  blown  up  the  tube  to  know  if  the 
'Prophet's'  column  was  ready." 


214  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

Ralph  Bastin  noticed  that  the  eyes  of  the  boy  flitted 
from  his  face  to  the  placard. 

''Know  what  that  means,  Charley?"  Bastin  asked. 

"Yus,  sir,  leastways,  I  knows  what  Mr,  Hammond 
means  by  it!  E  sez  that  Jesus  Christ's  comin'  back,  an' 
goin'  to  take  all  the  real  Christians  out  'er  the  world, 
an'  nobody  wont  see  'em  go,  nor  nothink.  I  'eard  Mr. 
Hammond  'splainin'  it  all  to  a  gent,  t'other  day." 

Curious  to  know  if  the  boy  himself  had  thought  seri- 
ously at  all  of  the  matter,  Bastin  said : — 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  Charley?" 

"Wal,  it's  Hke  this,  sir,  I  aint  been  to  no  Sunday 
School  since  I  wus  quite  a  young  'un,  'bout  eight  perhaps. 
An'  I  never  goes  to  no  Church  nor  Chapel,  cos  why? 
Why  'cos  Sunday's  the  only  day — 'cepts  my  'olidays — 
when  I  gits  any  chance  fur  any  rickreation  or  fresh  hair. 
So  I  aint  up  much  in  'ligious  things.  But  my  sister, 
Lulu,  she  walks  out  wi'  a  chap  as  teaches  in  a  Sunday 
School — leastways,  he  oosed  to  afore  he  took  up  wi' 
our  Lulu,  but  now  'e  wants  'is  Sunday  School  time  fur 
spoonying,  an'  'e  can  spoon,  sir,  there's  no  error — well, 
knowin'  as  'e  oosed  to  do  summat  at  'ligion,  I  ups  an' 
arsks  'im  about  what  Mr.  Hammond  said,  about  that 
takin'  away  business,  an  'e  (Jimmy  Doubleyou,  Lulu's 
chap,  I  mean,  sir,)  larfed,  an'  said,  "Don't  yer  b'lieve  any 
sich  rot!  D'yer  think  Gawd  'ud  go  an'  kidnap  all  'Is 
people  like  that?"* 

Ralph  Bastin  would  have  smiled,  at  any  other  time, 


*  At  a  Bible-Reading  in  Malvern  in  the  house  of  one  of  God's 
choicest  saints,  Miss  Ann  Boobbyer,  where  the  precious  truth  of 
*'The  Rapture"  was  being  unfolded,  a  minister  present,  who  was 
much  used  of  God,  as  an  evangelist,  started  up,  and  cried, 

"What!  My  Lord  coming  to  Kidnap  all  His  people?  Never! 
Never!     I'll  not  believe  that!" 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  215 

at  this  curious  reply.  But,  to-night,  his  soul  was  too 
sobered.  Gathering  up  the  sheets  of  M.S.'s,  he  clipped 
them  together,  stamped  them  with  Hammond's  mechan- 
ical imprimatur,  and  handed  the  sheaf  to  the  lad,  giving 
him  instructions  to  deliver  them  in  the  Composing  Room. 

As  the  lad  left  the  room,  he  sat  back  in  his  chair, 
and  tried  to  think  out  the  position  of  affairs.  He  had 
hardly  settled  himself  down,  before  the  messenger  boy 
returned. 

''  'Scuse  me,  sir,"  the  lad  began,  *'but  summat  curious 
hev  'appened.  There's  two  'holy  Joes,'  in  the  Compos- 
ing room,  an'  one  in  the  Sterio  room — leastways,  they 
oosed  to  be — an'  they's  all  three  bunked  ofif,  somewheres, 
nobody  seed  'em  go,  an  their  coats  an'  'hats  is  'ung  hup 
where  they  ussally  is,  an'  some  o'  the  chaps  says  as  they's 
translated.  Alf  Charman,  one  o'  the  comp's,  oosed  to 
talk  like  Mr.  'Ammond  did,  sir " 

The  boy  looked  a  trifle  fearsomely  at  the  empty  edi- 
tor's chair,  as  he  added. 

"Mr.  'Ammond,  sir,  I — er — I  suppose  as — 'e — 'e  aint 


"Mr.  Hammond  has  gone  out !"  Bastin  rapped  out  the 
words  quite  sharply.  All  this  talk  of  the  missing  men 
was  getting  on  his  nerves. 

"That  will  do,  Charley !"  he  added. 

The  lad  walked  slowly  to  the  door,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  placard,  his  lips  moving  to  the  words,  "To-day T' 
"Perhaps  r 

"Coorius !"  he  muttered  as  he  passed  out  of  the  room. 

Ralph  Bastin  tried  again  to  settle  himself  down  for 
a  quiet  think.  Suddenly  he  started  to  his  feet,  wild 
of  eye,  and  with  horror  in  his  face. 

"Viola?"   he   muttered.      "My   beautiful    little   Viola? 


216  IN  THE  TWINKLING   OF  AN   EYE 

She  has  talked  continuously  of  the  Christ  of  late.  Has 
she  been ?" 

He  seized  his  hat,  and  with  a  crushed  down  sob  of 
literal  fear,  he  rushed  away. 

Outside  the  office  he  came  upon  a  hanson.  He  leaped 
into  it,  shouting  the  Bloomsbury  address  to  the  man. 

"Drive  for  your  life!"  he  yelled.  ''A  sovereign  for 
you  if  you  get  me  there  quickly!" 

The  man's  horse  was  fresh.  They  rushed  through 
the  streets.  Arriving  at  the  house,  he  tossed  the  driver 
his  promised  sovereign,  and  letting  himself  in  wath  his 
latch  key,  he  dashed  into  the  drawing  room.  It  was 
empty ! 

He  was  leaving  the  room  hurriedly,  when  he  encount- 
ered the  landlady.  "Miss  Viola  has  gone  to  bed,  sir,  she 
overtired  herself,  visiting  the  sick-poor  with  her  flowers. 
and  all  that,  to-day,  and  she " 

"Thanks !"  with  a  hurried  nod  he  raced  up  the  stairs. 
The  child's  bedroom  was  next  to  his  own.  He  entered  it 
without  knocking.  He  w^as  too  much  agitated  to  stand 
upon  ceremony. 

The  room  was  in  darkness,  he  struck  a  match,  laid 
it  to  the  gas  nipple,  then  shot  a  quick  glance  at  the  bed. 
In  that  first  glance,  he  saw  that  it  was  empty.  He  went 
close  up  to  the  bed,  it  had  been  occupied,  he  could  see 
that.  He  thrust  his  hand  well  down  under  the  clothes. 
There  was  faint  body  warmth  left  in  the  bedding — or  it 
seemed  so  to  him. 

"God  help  me?"  he  groaned.  And  two  great  tears 
fell  glittering  from  his  eyes. 

"Viola!  Viola!  my  precious  darling!"  he  moaned.  "You 
were  my  life,  my " 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  217 

His  emotion  choked  him.  He  was  dropping  into  the 
chair  by  the  bed-side,  when  he  noticed  that  the  back 
and  seat  of  the  chair  were  strewn  with  the  under-cloth- 
ing, which  the  child  had  evidently  placed  there  when 
disrobing. 

With  eyes  blinded  with  tears,  he  lifted  the  dainty 
garments  in  a  pile,  and  laid  them  on  the  foot  of  the 
bed.  Then  he  dropped  back  into  the  chair,  buried  his 
face  in  the  pillow — the  impress  of  the  lost,  beautiful 
head  was  left  in  the  pillow — and  wept. 

For  five  minutes  he  remained  thus.  Then  rousing 
himself,  he  muttered: — "I  must  play  the  man!  and  get 
back  to  the  office  and  lay  hold  of  things." 

He  left  the  room,  and  managed  to  clear  the  house 
without  encountering  his  landlady.  Lucky  in  finding  a 
hansom,  he  had  himself  driven  first  to  the  central  News 
Agency.  He  wanted  to  find  out  if  anything  of  the  mys- 
tery was  generally  known. 

The  careless-minded,  light-hearted  tapists,  clerks  and 
journalists,  were  laughing  over  the  few  vague  rumours 
of  the  translation  that  had  reached  them. 

He  said  nothing  of  what  he  knew,  and  drove  on  to 
the  office. 

"If  the  world  has  to  go  on,  for  a  time,  just  as  it  has 
been  going,  in  spite  of  this  wonderful  thing,"  he  mut- 
tered, "then,  as  acting  editor  of  the  Courier,  I  had  better 
stifle  every  feeling,  save  the  professional,  and  give  Lon- 
don— England — the  best  morning  issue  under  the  new 
condition  of  things." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
FOILED! 

THIN  and  pale,  but  with  the  likeness  of  God  shining 
in  her  dark  eyes — there  was  the  bruise-like  colour 
of  great  exhaustion  under  each  eye — Mrs.  Joyce  sat 
wearily  stitching  at  her  warehouse  needle-work. 

Jem  Joyce,  the  drunken,  reprobate  husband,  was  serv- 
ing a  six  weeks  sentence  for  his  old  crime,  drunken  dis- 
orderliness  in  the  streets,  and  assaulting  the  police.  His 
time  would  soon  be  up.  The  fearsome  wife  had  recalled 
the  fact,  that  very  day,  though  she  could  not  be  sure  of 
the  actual  date. 

As  she  worked  now  her  voice  whispered  low  in 
song : — 

"It  may  be  in  the  evening, 

When  the  work  of  the  day  is  done. 
And  you  have  time  to  sit  in  the  twilight 

And  watch  the  sinking  sun. 
When  the  long,  bright  day  dies  slowly 

Over  the  sea. 
And  the  hour  grows  quiet  and  holy 

With  thoughts  of  Me; 
While  you  hear   the  village   children 

Passing  along  the   street, 
Among  those  thronging  footsteps 

May  come  the  sound  of  My  feet. 
Therefore  I  tell  you  :    Watch 

By  the  light  of  the  evening-star. 
When  the  room  is  growing  dusky 

As  the  clouds  afar  ; 
Let  the  door  be  on  the  latch 

In  your  home, 
For  it  may  be  through  the  gleaming 

I  will  come." 

Low,  soft,  yearning  in  its  passionate  longing  for  her 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  219 

Lord's  Return,  she  began  again  to  hum  her  lay,  when 
a  step  sounded  somewhere  near.  So  keenly  had  her 
imagination  been  aroused  by  her  song,  and  by  her  long, 
yearning-dwelHng  on  the  theme  of  the  song,  that  she, 
almost  unconsciously  to  herself,  rose  to  her  feet,  her 
work  and  needle  held  lightly  in  her  hand,  her  face  turned 
towards  the  door.  For  one  instant,  her  imagination  had 
suggested  the  step  to  have  been  her  Lord's. 

The  next  moment  she  turned  deadly  pale.  She  had 
recognized  the  step.     It  was  her  husband's. 

She  had  just  time  to  drop  back  into  her  chair,  and, 
tremblingly,  to  resume  her  work,  when  the  brute  entered. 
He  was  drunk — viciously,  murderously  drunk. 

He  began  to  curse  her,  the  moment  he  crossed  the 
threshold.  He  called  her  foul  names  that  brought  the 
flush  of  a  great  shame — for  him,  not  for  herself — to  her 
cheeks.  He  sneered  at  her  religion,  and  blasphemed  the 
name  of  her  Lord. 

Her  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came  from  them.  She 
prayed  for  grace  to  be  silent,  for  she  feared  to  aggravate 
him.  Suddenly,  he  shook  his  fist  in  her  face,  and 
hissed : — 

"Curse   you !     You   !      Do  you   know   I've   only 

come  back  to  you  to  settle  all  my  scores.  I've  come 
to " 

His  foaming,  blaspheming  rage  choked  him,  and  he 
leaped  forward,  (she  had  drawn  back  from  his  clenched 
fist)  and  caught  her  by  the  throat. 

She  could  not  cry  out.  She  thought  his  purpose  was 
to  strangle  her.  He  glared  murderously  back  into  her 
eyes,  which  his  awful  grip  was  forcing  from  their  sockets. 
He  shook  her  fiercely,  hurling  hideous  blasphemies  at 
her  all  the  time.    Then  he  essayed  to  put  his  real  purpose 


220  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

in  view,  and  drawing  himself  up,  and  drawing  her,  at 
the  same  time,  towards  himself,  he  hurled  himself  for- 
ward to  dash  her  head  against  the  wall  of  the  room. 

It  was  his  head  that  struck  the  wall.  His  hands 
clutched  air.  He  fell  head-long  stunned,  bleeding,  and — 
presently,  he  was  dead. 

The  room  was  very  still.     Awesomely  silent. 

Margaret  Joyce  was  in  the  air,  with  her  Lord! 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A  CASTAWAY. 

MADGE  and  her  husband  left  Albany  on  the  Monday 
morning,  ostensibly  for  a  brief  honey-moon,  but, 
chiefly,  with  a  view  to  recruit  her  husband's  health. 
They  had  gone  to  a  tiny  little  house  among  the  Catskills, 
kept  by  a  coloured  woman  named  "Julie."  The  pastor 
had  been  there  before,  and  had  himself  chosen  this  quiet 
retreat  for  their  marriage  trip. 

The  heart  of  Madge  was  broken,  for  her  husband 
would  not  be  friendly  with  her.  He  was  barely  civil 
when  he  spoke  to  her,  and  answered  her  in  short,  sharp 
monasyllables  only.  All  the  old  natural  pride,  with  which 
she  would  have  met  this  treatment  a  fortnight  ago,  or 
less,  was,  fortunately,  for  him,  swallowed  up  in  her  new 
found  faith  in,  and  her  utter  surrender  to  God.  And 
with  this  there  had  come  to  her  the  patience  and  purify- 
ing, bom  of  the  Hope  of  the  near  return  of  the  Lord, 
whom  she  now  loved. 

She  had  been  alone,  thinking  over  the  whole  position, 
for  a  couple  of  hours.  The  situation  had  become  intol- 
erable. She  determined  to  make  an  appeal  to  him,  though 
it  hurt  her  natural  pride  even  to  contemplate  it. 

"Help  me!  Teach  me!  Guide  me!"  she  cried  unto 
her  God.  And  in  the  strength  of  the  divine  promises  of 
upholding  and  guidance,  she  decided  to  go  to  her  husband. 

«)C  -f!  >|C  ^  <fC  ffC  i^ 

He  was  alone,  with  a  book  before  him  on  the  table. 
But  he  was  not   reading.     He   was  not  even  thinking. 


222  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

His  mind  was  in  a  confused  whirl,  born  of  the  inward 
rage  of  a  much  discomfited  man.  He  had  made  a  fool 
of  himself,  in  public.  He  knew  it,  and  he  had  been  too 
proud  to  apologize.  He  had  spurned  and  snubbed  the 
w^oman,  for  whom  he  had  professed  to  be  dying  of  love, 
and  who  had  made  the  greatest  sacrifice  any  honest 
woman  can  make  to  man — since  she  had  offered  herself 
to  him,  in  marriage. 

He  knew  that,  in  the  eyes  of  his  wafe,  and  in  the  eyes 
of  the  little  world  he  had  lived  and  laboured  in,  that  he 
had  lowered  himself,  had  proved  himself  less  than  ordi- 
narily human. 

Some  of  his  own  recent  platform  and  pulpit  utter- 
ances, returned  to  his  mind,  and  they  stung  him  by  their 
reproach.  The  very  last  sermon  he  had  preached,  before 
his  breakdown  of  health,  had  had  for  its  text,  'To  him 
that  overcometh,  will  I  give -." 

In  the  course  of  his  address  he  had  alluded  to  the 
shame  of  some  of  life's  failures,  and  had  quoted  William 
S.  Walsh's  'Ichabod." 

Now,  as  he  sat  brooding  over  his  own  fall,  the  lines 
returned  to  him.  They  mocked  him,  gibed  at  him,  becom- 
ing, to  his  brooding  imagination,  sentient  things  with 
laughing,  mocking,  sneering  voices,  that  somehow  con- 
trived to  fling  back  into  his  ears,  the  very  tones  of  his 
own  voice,  as  he  had  declaimed  the  verses  from  his 
platform,  weeks  ago: 

"Alas,    for  the  lofty   dreaming, 
The  longed-for  high  emprise, 
For  the  man  whose  outer  seeming 
His  inner  self  belies ! 

"I  looked  on  the  life  before  me 
With  purpose  high  and  true. 
When  the  passions  of  youth  surged  o'er  me, 
And  the  world  was  strange  and  true. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  223 

"Where  the  hero-soul  rejoices 
I  would  play  the  hero's  part ; 
My  ears  were  attuned  to  the  voices 
That  speak  to  the  poet's  heart. 

"I  would  conquer  a  place  in  story, 
With  a  soul  unsmirched  by  sin ; 
My  heart  should  be  crowned  with  glory, 
My  heart  be  pure  within. 

"But  the  hour  that  should  have  crowned  me, 

Cast  all  high  hope  adown. 
And  the  time  of  trial  found  me, 
A  sinner,  coivard,  clown" 

The  thought  that  many  of  those  who  heard  him  declaim 
those  lines,  would  be  now  recalling  them,  and  perhaps 
be  applying  them  to  himself,  half  maddened  him.  And 
it  was  at  this  worst  of  all  moments  for  her  mission  of 
reconciliation,  that  Madge  entered  the  room. 

With  a  rare  gentleness  she  began  to  plead  with  him, 
reminding  him  of  all  the  passionate  love  he  had  expressed 
for  her  up  to  the  very  moment,  almost,  when  they 
entered  the  church  together  for  that  Sunday  morning 
service. 

He  answered  her  coldly,  sullenly  at  first.  Then  he 
grew  pettishly  angry  with  her,  and  snapped  sharply  at 
her,  contradicting  her  in  nearly  all  she  said : 

"But,  Homer,"  she  pleaded  again,  and  in  the  deep 
yearning  heart  to  win  him  back  to  his  old  loving  self, 
she  knelt  before  him,  and  tried  to  take  his  hand. 

With  an  angry  exclamation,  he  rose  sharply  to  his 
feet  and  thrust  her  away  with  his  foot,  as  he  cried : — 

"I  don't  want  you!  You  go  your  way,  I'll  go  mine, 
and " 

He  stopped  suddenly.  With  a  sharp  cry  of  agony, 
he  stretched  his  hands  out  into  the  empty  space,  where 
an   instant  before,   she  had   knelt — for,   in   one   flashing 


224  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

moment,  she  had  disappeared  from  before  his  eyes. 

''Madge !  Madge,  dear  love,  dear  love,  dear  wife !" 
he  cried. 

The  sound  of  his  own  voice  struck  chilly  upon  his 
soul.  Deep,  deep  down  in  his  heart  he  knew  what  had 
happened — only  he  would  not  ozvn  it  to  himself. 

He  flashed  a  swift  glance  at  the  window  and  door. 
Both  were  fast  shut. 

''This  is  what  Doig  preached!  What  Madge  believed 
would  come  to  pass !"  he  cried,  hoarsely. 

There  was  a  strange  look  of  terror  in  his  eyes. 

"Julie  will  have  gone,  too,  if  it  is  the — the — ." 

He  did  not  finish  his  muttered  thought.  Like  a  man 
walking  in  his  sleep,  he  moved  to  the  door,  opened  it, 
and  called,  loudly : — "Julie  !" 

There  came  no  reply.  An  eerie  stillness  was  in  the 
house. 

He  moved  on  into  the  kitchen,  the  room  was  empty. 
A  saucepan  of  milk  was  boiling  over  on  the  hot-plate 
of  the  grate ! 

He  hurried  into  the  garden,  calling  "Madge !  Julie !" 
There  was  no  response. 

He  went  back  to  the  house.  The  turkeys  had  strayed 
into  the  kitchen,  there  being  no  one  to  drive  them  back. 
He  made  a  hurried,  fearsome  tour  of  the  house.  Every 
room  was  empty ! 

He  went  back  to  where  he  had  been,  when  Madge 
was  taken,  with  a  groan  he  dropped  into  his  chair,  star- 
ing into  space  with  horror-stricken  eyes. 

Suddenly,  as  though  a  living  voice  utered  them,  the 
words  of  scripture  sounded  in  his  ears. 

''Lest,  that  by  any  means,  when  I  have  preached  to 
others,  I  myself  should  he  a  castaway." 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  225 

A  mortal  agony  filled  his  eyes,  as  he  groaned: — 
"God  help  me !     I  know  now  that  I  have  only  been 
a  minister,  by  training  and  by  profession,  I  have  never 
been  a  son  of  God  by  conversion,  by  the  New  Birth !" 

His  untaught  soul  had  misinterpreted  the  real  inward- 
ness of  that  passage  of  Paul's.  But  it  was  true,  in  the 
sense  he  meant  it,  he  was  "a  castaway." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
A  STRICKEN  CITY. 

IT  was  not  really  until  business  time  next  morning, 
that  London,  that  the  whole  country,  really  fully 
awoke  to  the  fact  of  the  great  event  of  the  previous 
night.  Suburbans,  in  many  cases,  only  heard  the  strange 
news  on  their  arrival  at  their  particular  railway  stations. 
Even  then,  a  hundred  rumours  were  the  order  of  the 
moment.  Everything  reported  was  vague  and  shadowy. 
There  were  a  few  rank  unbelievers  of  the  garbled  stories 
of  the  translation,  who  laughed  sceptically,  then  began 
to  grumble  at  the  strange  disorganization  of  the  Railway 
traffic. 

More  than  one  annoyed,  belated  traveller,  remarked 
in  similar  terms  to  the  utterance  of  a  commercial  travel- 
ler, at  Surbiton  station  : — 

*'If  there  is  any  actual  truth  in  this  story  of  the  secret 
translation  of  a  number  of  religious  people,  then  the 
mysterious  taking  away  of  so  many  signal-men,  and 
engine-men,  will  be  an  eye-opener  to  the  travelling  public, 
who  never,  somehow,  suppose  that  Christianity  is  a  strong 
factor  in  the  lives  of  railway  men." 

''It  is  a  revelation  in  another  way,"  remarked  a  second, 
"since  it  suggests  why  we  have  hitherto  had  so  few  rail- 
way accidents,  compared  with  other  nations/' 

The  tens  and  hundreds  of  thousands,  the  millions, 
poured  into  London  as  usual.  But  the  snap  had  gone 
out  of  most  of  them.  A  horrible  sense  of  foreboding, 
was  upon  the   spirits  of   the  travellers.     As  the  news- 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  227 

papers  more  fully  confirmed  the  news,  London 
approached  perilously  near  the  verge  of  a  general  panic. 

The  newspapers  were  bought  up  with  phenominal  eag- 
erness. "Souf  Efriken  War  worn't  in  it,  fur  clearin' 
out  peepers !"  a  street  seller  remarked. 

But  few  of  the  morning  papers,  (except  the  "Courier") 
had  anything  special  to  say  on  the  great  event.  Most 
of  them,  in  fact,  were  absolutely  silent. 

There  were  weather  prophecies,  political  prophecies, 
financial  prophecies,  social  prophecies,  sporting  prophe- 
cies, commercial  prophecies, — but  no  prophecy  of  the 
Coming  of  the  Christ. 

The  "Courier's"  rival  had  a  brief  note  to  the  effect: — 

"Some  wild,  senseless  rumours  were  abroad  in  London 
last  night,  as  to  the  sudden,  mysterious  disappearance  of 
numbers  of  the  ultra  religious  persons  of  London,  and 
elsewhere.  Some  people  talked  wildly  of  the  end  of 
the  world.  We  therefore  despatched  special  commis- 
sioners, to  ascertain  what  truth  there  was  in  all  this. 

"Our  representative  returned  an  hour  and  a  half  later, 
after  having  visited  all  the  chief  places  of  amusement 
and  principal  restaurants.  But  everywhere  managers  told 
the  same  story,  'there  has  been  no  signs  of  the  end  of 
the  world  in  our  place.    We  are  fuller  than  ever.' 

"The  genial  manager  of  the  Theatre,  assured 

our  Representative,  that  no  later  than  last  Sunday  morn- 
ing, he  heard  it  repeated  at  his  Church,  that  'as  it  was  in 
the  beginning,  is  now,  and  ever  shall  be,  world  without 
end,  Amen.'  So  that,  for  the  life  of  him,  he  could  not 
conceive  any  one  being  such  a  fool  as  to  talk  of  the  end 
of  the  world." 

But  the  note  of  the  "Courier's"  clarion  call  had  no 
uncertain  sound.     Besides  all  that  we  have  already  seen 


228  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

written  in  the  office  by  the  translated  Tom  Hammond, 
and  afterwards  by  Ralph  Bastin,  the  latter  had  added 
to  his  postscript,  another.  It  was  a  solemn,  a  pathetic 
word,  and  ran  as  follows : 

"Our  sheets  must  go  to  press  in  a  few  moments,  if  the 
"Courier"  is  to  be  in  the  hands  of  its  readers  at  the 
usual  hour.  But  before  we  print,  we  feel  compelled  to 
add  a  word  or  two  more  to  what  we  wrote  two  hours  ago. 

"During  the  last  two  hours,  we  have  made  many  dis- 
coveries, not  the  least  of  which,  from  the  personal  stand- 
point, is  the  fact,  that  the  nearest  and  dearest  being  to 
our  own  heart  and  life,  one  whose  life  and  thought,  of 
late,  has  been  strangely  taken  up  by  the  Christ  of  God, 
is  missing.  She  has  shared  in  the  glory  and  joy  of  the 
wondrous,  mysterious,  and — to  most  of  us,  to  all  of  us 
surely  who  are  left — unexpected  translation. 

"We  have  no  wish  or  intention  to  parade  our  own 
personal  griefs  before  our  readers,  but  dare  to  say  that 
no  journalist  ever  worked  with  a  more  broken,  crushed 
sense  of  life,  than  did  we  during  the  two  hours  we  after- 
wards spent  in  searching  London  for  facts. 

"One  curious  fact  which  we  speedily  discovered,  was, 
that  no  one  had  been  taken  in  this  wondrous  translation, 
from  any  of  the  Theatres  or  music-halls.  In  the  old 
days — four  hours  ago,  seems,  to  look  back  to,  like  four 
centuries — before  this  awfully  solemn  event,  discussions 
arose,  periodically,  in  certain  religious  and  semi-religious 
journals,  as  to  whether  true  Christians  could  attend  the 
theatre  and  music-hall. 

"The  fact  that  no  one  appears  to  have  been  translated 
from  any  of  these  London  houses  of  amusement,  answers, 
we  think,  that  question,  as  it  has  never  been  answered 
before." 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  229 

Here  followed  a  brief  resume  of  his  experiences  in 
other  quarters.  Then  in  big  black  type  he  asked  the 
question : — 

"What  follows,  (according  to  the  Bible  program) 
THIS  Stupendous  Event? — The  Bible,  evidently,  (when 
read  aright)  told  those,  who  have  been  taken  from  our 
midst,  that  this  translation  was  approaching,  then  it 
must  surely  give  some  hint  of  what  we  may  expect  to 
follow  so  startling  an  episode  as  that  of  to-night.  The 
question  is,  what  follows? 

"There  must  surely  be  many  clergymen  and  ministers 
who  knew  about  this  great  translation,  who  though  not 
living  in  the  spirit  of  what  they  knew,  and  being  there- 
fore left  behind,  like  the  common  ruck  of  those  of  us, 
who  were  carelessly  ignorant — there  must  be  many  such 
ministers  left,  who  could  teach  us  now,  what  to  expect 
next,  and  how  to  prepare  for  the  next  eruption — what- 
ever form  it  may  take. 

*'We  therefore  propose  to  any  such  ministers,  that 
they  gather  us  into  the  Albert  Hall,  Agricultural  Hall, 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  Spurgeon's  Tabernacle,  Whitfields 
— why  not,  in  fact,  into  every  church,  chapel,  Salvation 
Army  Barracks,  or  even  in  the  great  open  spaces  such 
as  Hyde  Park,  and  other  Parks,  Primrose  Hill,  Hamp- 
stead  Heath,  etc.,  and  teach  us,  who  are  left  behind 
from  the  wondrous  Translation,  that  has  just  occurred, 
how  to  be  prepared  for  the  next  mighty  change,  for  we 
believe  the  bulk  of  us  are  absolutely  in  the  dark. 

''Meanwhile,  are  there  no  houses  in  Paternoster  Row, 
and  its  neighbourhood,  where  books  and  pamphlets  on 
these  momentous  subjects  can  be  obtained,  or  are  all 
such  publishers  translated  with  those  of  whom  we  have 
been  writing?" 


230  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

One  effect  of  the  last  suggestion,  in  Bastin's  second 
postscript,  was  to  send  thousands  of  people  to  Pater- 
noster Row,  the  Square.  Ivy  Lane,  and  all  the  neighbour- 
hood. Some  of  the  publishers  of  books  on  the  Lord's 
Second  Coming,  had  been  left  behind,  had  7iot  shared 
in  the  Rapture  of  which  they  had  printed  and  published. 

Storekeepers,  packers,  masters,  clerks,  were  most  of 
them  reading  up  the  contents  of  their  own  wares.  Busi- 
ness system  among  them,  at  first,  seemed  an  unknown 
quantity.  Deadness,  amaze,  fear,  uncertainty,  all  of 
these  things  held  and  dominated  them. 

But  they  had  to  wake  up.  Their  counters  were 
besieged.  Hordes  of  people  thronged  the  doors.  In 
twenty  minutes  after  the  first  great  influx,  there  was 
not  a  tract,  a  booklet,  or  a  volume,  on  the  ''Lord's  com- 
ing, and  the  events  to  follow,"  left  in  the  "Row." 

At  any  other  time  those  in  command  of  the  stores, 
would  have  tried  to  get  the  printing  presses  at  work,  to 
run  off  some  hundreds  of  thousands  of  the  briefest  of 
the  ''Second  Advent"  literature.  But,  to-day,  fear,  name- 
less fear  held  every  one  in  thrall. 

The  "Row"  put  up  shutters,  and  went  home — or  at 
least  got  away  from  business. 

Business,  everywhere,  was  at  a  standstill.  By  eleven 
o'clock  most  of  the  city  houses  were  closed.  Some  of 
the  banks  never  opened  at  all.  Throgmorton  Street  and 
the  Stock  Exchange  were  in  a  state  of  dazed  incredulity. 
A  few  members  were  missing,  and  these  were  known 
to  be  "Expectants"  of  the  Translation. 

"Salvation  S ,  is  gone!"  some  one  called  out. 

"Aye!"  cried  another,  "I'd  give  all  I  possess,  or  ever 
hoped  to  possess,  to  be  where  he  is  now.  I  remember 
how  he  tried  and  prayed  to  persuade  me  once  to " 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  231 

There  was  a  rush  of  members  across  "The  Floor"  at 
that  moment.  Some  one  had  a  proposition  to  make, 
namely  a  trip  to  101  Queen  Victoria  Street,  to  see  if 
there  were  any  Salvationists  left  there.  A  little  band, 
about  a  dozen,  responded,  and  the  silk-hatted,  excited 
little  crowd  swept  away  on  their  curious  quest. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
' '  HALLELUJAH  LASS. ' ' 

THERE  was  one  "Hallelujah  Lass,"  in  the  front  shop, 
at  the  ''Headquarters."  She  was  bonnetless,  but 
the  big.  navy-blue  head-dress  laid  on  a  glass  show-case. 
She  wore  a  finely-knitted  crimson  jersey  and  braided 
blue  skirt.  Her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping.  She  was 
strangely  distraught.  There  was  no  lilt  of  the  song  upon 
her  lips : — 

"Oh  !  the  peace  my  Saviour  gives, 
Peace  I  never  knew  before." 

"Not  all  translated  then?"  began  the  leader  of  the 
Stock  Exchange  band,  addressing  her. 

There  was  nothing  flippant,  nothing  sneering  in  his 
tone  or  manner. 

The  girl  essayed  a  reply,  but  at  first  it  ended  in  a  sob 
only.     Presently  she  recovered  herself  enough  to  say : — 

*'No,  we're  not  all  translated !  You  see,  sir,  the  Army, 
as  a  body,  never  quite  admitted  the  truth  of  this  Second 
coming  of  our  Lord.  It  has  always  preached  that  we, 
as  an  Army  of  Salvation,  were  raised  up  by  God  to  get 
all  the  world  converted.  A  lady  in  the  train,  as  I  came 
up  to  business,  only  yesterday " 

The  girl  sighed  wearily,  as  she  interpolated,  "Yester- 
day seems  as  far  off  as  Wesley's  times.  But,  only  yes- 
terday, this  lady,  in  the  train  talked  to  me  about  the 
'Lord's  near  return' — that  is  how  she  put  it — and  said, 
'God  is  undoubtedly  using  the  Army  in  evangelizing  the 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE  233 

distant  heathen,  and  thus  allowing  them  to  fulfil  His  pur- 
pose in  calling  out  those  who  are  to  form  the  Bride  of 
the  Heavenly  Bridegroom — but,  believe  me,  my  dear,  the 
world  will  never  be  converted  before  Christ  comes  for 
His  Church.' 

"She  talked  to  me  very  beautifully,  and  simply,  only, 
as  she  said,  one  could  only  grasp  these  truths  in  propor- 
tion as  one  kept  clear  in  their  minds  the  things  which 
belonged  to  the  separate  dispensations. 

"  'If,'  she  said,  'The  Lord  came  to-night' — how  little 
she  or  I  dreamed  that  He  actually  would — 'this  dispen- 
sation would  be  closed,  and  a  new  one  would  begin 
to-morrow.'  " 

The  girl  looked  around  in  a  bewildered  way,  almost 
as  though  she  was  looking  for  something  she  had  lost. 

"I  have  never  known  anything  about  the  dispensa- 
tions, and  their  bearing  on  the  Bible,"  she  went  on.  "The 
Army  has  always  taught  us  that  we  should  all  die,  lie  in 
our  graves  until  "the  last  Day,"  then  appear  before  the 
Great  White  Throne,  and  be  judged  according  to  our 
lives,  and  all  that.  The  lady  who  spoke  to  me  yesterday 
— yesterday?  oh,  how  far  off  it  seems — explained  to  me, 
from  the  Bible,  that  true  Christians  would  never  appear 
before  the  Great  White  Throne. 

"That  when  the  Great  White  Throne  shall  be  set,  the 
real  Christian  will  be  seated  in  glory  with  Jesus,  the 
Judge.  And  only  the  wicked,  unsaved  dead  will  be  judged 
there.  The  sin  of  the  true  Christian,  she  said,  is  done 
with,  settled,  put  away  at  the  Cross. 

"  'There  is  therefore  now  no  condemnation  {judgment) 
to  them  who  are  in  Christ  Jesus.'  'He  that  heareth,  and 
believeth  on  Jesus,  hath  everlasting  life,  and  shall  not 


234  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

come  into  the  judgment,  but  is  passed  from  death  unto 
life.' 

"She  told  me  that  the  true  Christian,  who  might  be 
living,  when  the  Lord  should  Return,  would  be  caught  up 
into  the  air,  with  all  the  Christian  dead,  who  will  rise 
from  their  graves ;  and,  that  then  the  only  judgment  that 
can  ever  come  to  the  Christian,  will  take  place.  That  will 
be  at  Christ's  judgment  of  Rewards.  She  said  that 
eternal  life  did  not  enter  into  the  question.  That  was  set- 
tled once  and  for  ever,  but  at  Christ's  Reward- judgment, 
the  Christian's  work  would  be  tried.'' 

Some  of  the  silk-hatted  listening  men  began  to  fidget. 
All  this  talk  was  foreign  and  uninteresting  to  them. 

'The  lady,"  the  girl  went  on,  ''promised  to  meet  me 
this  morning  at  the  station,  at  the  same  time  as  we  met 
yesterday,  'Should  the  Lord  Tarry'  she  said.  But  I  saw 
nothing  of  her  this  morning.  She  had  been  'caught  up,' 
of  course,  to  meet  her  Lord  in  the  air,  and  I " 

The  girl's  voice  broke,  her  eyes  streamed  with  tears. 
One  of  the  youngest  of  the  stock-brokers  asked : — 

"But  why,  if  Salvationists  are  Christians,  are  you  here? 
Why  were  you  not  translated?" 

"God  help  me !"  she  cried,  'T  know  now,  now  that  it 
is  too  late,  that  I  was  never  converted.  I  was  drawn 
into  an  Army  meeting  by  reports  I  heard  of  the  singing 
and  music.  The  Army's  methods  fascinated  me — the 
young  officer  who  came  to  our  town,  was  a  very  taking 
fellow.  He  talked  to  me  in  an  after  meeting,  I  wept 
with  the  many  emotions  that  were  at  work  within  me; 
I  went  to  the  penitent  form — and — and — afterwards 
joined  the  Salvation  Army — but  I  know  7V0W,  I  was  not 
really  saved." 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  235 

She  caught  her  breath  in  a  quick  sob,  then  a  Httle  glow 
suddenly  filled  her  face,  as  she  added: — 

**But  I  have  settled  the  matter  this  morning.     I  have 

yielded,  intelligently  to  Christ,  and  I  know  that 

"Jesus  with  me  is  united, 

Doubting  and  fears  they  are  gone ; 
With  Him  now  my  soul  is  delighted, 
I  and  King  Jesus  are  one." 

"And,"  she  cried,  her  eyes  flashing  with  a  holy  light, 
''If  witnessing  for  Jesus  means  martyrdom,  then,  by 
God's  grace,  I'll  show  by  my  death  that " 

"Are  there  many  Salvationists  left?"  interrupted  one 
of  her  Hsteners. 

A  quick  flush  dyed  her  cheek ;  as  she  repHed : — 

"I  can't  say!  There  are  some  here  at  head-quarters, 
whom  I  should  not  have  thought  would  have  been  left 
behind,  but  who  are.  Though  I  don't  believe  there  will 
be  more,  if  so  many  Salvationists,  as  other  sects,  in 
proportion,  be  found  to  be  left  behind,  or " 

The  sound  of  thousands  of  tramping  feet  broke  into 
the  girl's  speech.  The  little  crowd  of  Stock-brokers 
rushed  to  the  door. 

A  dense  mass  of  men  and  women  were  marching  up 
the  street.  Every  face  was  set  and  serious.  There  were 
many  clergymen  and  ministers  in  the  crowd,  if  the 
clerical  collar  and  ministerial  garb  gave  true  indication 
of  their  calling. 

"To  St.  Paul's !  To  St.  Paul's !"  a  stentorian  voice 
was  shouting. 

The   stockbrokers   joined   the   mighty   crowd,    which, 

grim,  resolute,  silent,  swept  on. 

******* 

By  midnight,  or  soon  after,  a  few  hours  only  after 
the   great   Translation,   the   hordes   of   the   vicious   that 


236  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

festered  in  the  slums — women,  as  well  as  men,  aliens  and 
British  alike — had  heard  something  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  creeping  from  their  filthy  lairs,  began,  at 
once  to  become  a  menace  to  public  life  and  property. 

Many  of  the  police  beats  were  unprotected,  the  men 
who  had  been  patrolHng  them  sharing  in  the  sudden 
glorious  Rapture  of  their  Lord's  return.  By  midnight, 
the  whole  police  service  had  become  temporarily  disor- 
ganized, if  not  actually  demoralized. 

Scotland  Yard  heads  of  departments  were  missing,  as 
well  as  local  Superintendents,  Sergeants,  etc.  In  many 
cases  there  was  no  one  to  give  orders,  or  to  maintain 
control.  And  where  leaders  were  left,  they  were  often 
too  scared  and  unnerved  to  exercise  a  healthful  authority. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  hordes  of  vicious,  and 
out  of  work  grew  bolder  every  hour.  They  had  no  fear 
of  the  Spiritual  character  of  the  strange  situation,  for 
God,  to  them,  was  a  name  only  to  blaspheme.  Hell  was 
a  merry  jest  to  them,  a  synonym  for  warmth  and  rest, — 
a  combination  which  had  been  all  too  rare  with  them  on 
earth.  Besides,  Hell  had  no  shadow  of  terror  to  people 
who,  for  years,  had  suffered  the  torments  of  a  life  in  a 
literal  hell  in  London. 

Shops,  and  private  houses,  and  some  of  the  larger 
business  houses  had  been  openly  burgled.  A  rumour  got 
abroad,  that  the  Banks  were  to  be  raided. 

Ralph  Bastin,  passing  the  Bank  of  England,  found 
that  the  guard  of  Soldiers  had  been  quadrupled,  and  this 
too  for  the  day-time.  Curious  to  know  how  the  Transla- 
tion of  the  night  before  had  affected  the  army,  he  asked 
one  of  the  privates  if  any  of  the  London  soldiers  were 
missing? 

"All  the  *blue-lights/  (as  we  calls  the  Christians,  sir,) 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  237 

is  missin'.  Yer  see,  sir,  if  a  feller  perfesses  to  be  a 
Chrishun  in  the  Army,  an,  aint  real,  'e  soon  gits  the 
perfession  knocked  outer  'im.  On  the  other  han'  if 
'e's  real,  why  all  the  persekushun  on'y  drives  'is  'ligion 
deeper  inter  'im.  Yes,  all  the  'blue-lights'  is  gone,  sir,  an' 
any  amount  o'  officers. 

"These,  as  is  gone,  is  mos'ly  the  middle-age  an'  ole 
ones,  an'  those  wot's  been  in  India,  Malta,  an'  other 
furrin  stations.  I've  knowed  lots  o'  that  sort  o'  officer,  as 
cosed  to  hev  Bible-Readin's  at  their  Bungalows.  Ah,  they 
wur  right,  they  wur,  the  other  wur  wrong,  an'  the  wrong 
'uns  knows  to-day  as  they's  out  o'  luck!" 

"li  yer  arsks  my  erpinun,  ser,  I  sez,  that  London's 
full  o'  fools,  to-day,  fur  if  we'd  all  been  doin'  an'  thinkin' 
as  we'd  oughter,  why  we'd  be  now  up  in  Glory  wi  Jesus. 
I've  yeard  the  truth  at  So'dger  Homes,  an'  sich  places, 
an'  I've  sung  wi'  lots  o'  others : — 

"Blessed  are  those  whom  the  Lord  finds  watching; 
In  his  glory  they  shall  share : 
If  He  shall  come  at  the  dawn  or  midnight, 
Will  He  find  us  watching  there?" 

"O,  can  we  say  we  are  ready,  brother? — 
Ready  for  the  soul's  bright  home? 
Say,  will  He  find  you  and  me  still  watching, 
Waiting,  waiting,  when  the  Lord  shall  come?" 

The  man  suddenly  straightened  himself,  and  glanced 
away  from  Bastin.     An  officer  was  approaching. 

Ralph  Bastin  walked  away,  the  thought  that  filled  his 
mind,  was  of  the  strange  mood  that  had  suddenly  come 
over  everyone,  since  to-day,  everybody  seemed  ready  to 
talk  freely  of  religious  things. 

He  moved  on  up  Cheapside,  his  destination  being  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
IN  ST.  PAUL'S. 

THE  cathedral  was  packed,  packed  out  to  the  doors. 
The  aisles,  and  every  other  inch  of  standing-room 
was  a  solid  Jam.  The  whole  area  of  the  interior  showed 
one  black  mass  of  silent  waiting,  expectant  people — it 
was  curious  to  note  that  almost  every  woman  had  donned 
black,  in  some  form  or  other. 

The  great  organ  was  silent.  No  one  dreamed  of 
singing.  The  choir  seats  were  full  of  strangers.  The 
stalls  were  filled  with  an  indiscriminate  crowd.  There 
was  no  rule,  no  discipline  to-day. 

Suddenly  the  tall,  square-built  form  of  a  certain  well- 
known  Bishop,  rose  near  the  pulpit.  He  had  linked  his 
arm  in  that  of  one  of  London's  most  popular  Non- 
conformist preachers,  and  almost  dragged  him  to  his 
feet. 

There  was  evidently  a  controversy  going  on  between 
the  two  men  as  to  which  of  them  should  address  the 
people,  each  urging  the  other  to  lead  off.  The  same 
thought  was  in  the  minds  of  nearly  all  who  were  in  view 
of  the  pair,  namely,  "how  comes  it  that  a  Bishop,  and  a 

popular    preacher   like   the    Rev.   ,    have   been   left 

behind?" 

A  strange  new  tenseness,  a  deepening  silence,  settled 
upon  the  mighty  mass  gathered  under  that  great  dome. 
Suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  by  a  voice  calling: 

"Bishop   ."     Another    voice    immediately    cried, 

"No!    The  Rev. ." 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  239 

A  momentary  clamour  of  voices  ensued.  The  voices 
were  not  shrill  in  their  eagerness,  but  sullen,  sombre, 
almost  savage,  in  fact.  A  moment,  and  the  Bishop  slowly 
entered  the  pulpit.     He  bowed  his  head  in  prayer. 

Like  the  slow,  rushing  sound  of  the  letting  loose  of 
some  distant  water,  the  noise  of  thousands  of  bending 
forms  filled  the  place,  for  everyone  bowed  the  head. 

A  moment  later,  the  heads  were  raised.  The  silence 
almost  of  a  tomb  filled  the  place,  when  the  first  momen- 
tary rustle  of  the  uprearing  had  subsided. 

The  voice  of  the  Bishop  broke  the  silence,  crying: — 

**Men  and  women  of  London,  fellows  with  me  in  the 
greatest  shame  the  world  has  ever  known — the  shame  of 
bearing  the  name  Christian,  and  yet  of  being  the  rejected 
of  Christ, — we  meet  to-day  under  awful,  solemn  circum- 
stances. 

"We  are  face  to  face  with  the  most  solemnly  awful 
situation  the  human  race  has  ever  known,  if  we  except 
the  conditions  under  which,  during  those  three  hours 
of  blackness  at  Calvary,  the  people  of  Jerusalem  were 
found,  while  the  Crucified  Christ  hung  mid-air,  on  the 
Fatal  Tree. 

"It  may  be  said  that  our  position  bears  some  likeness 
to  that  of  the  people  who  were  destroyed  at  the  Flood. 
Those  antedeluvians  had  one  hundred  and  twenty  years 
warning,  we,  as  professing  Christians,  have  had  nearly 
two  thousand  years  warning,  yet,  London,  England  and 
the  whole  world  has  by  last  night's  events,  been  proved 
practically  heathen — or  atheist,  atheist  will  perhaps  best 
fit  our  character. 

"The  moment  came  when  God  called  Noah  and  his 
family  into  the  ark.  But  what  never  occurred  to  me, 
until  this  morning,  was  the  significant  fact,  that  God  did 


240  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

not  shut  the  door  of  the  ark,  or  send  the  flood,  until 
seven  days  later,  thus  giving  the  unbelievers  another 
opportunity  to  be  saved. 

"And  God  has  given  London,  England,  America,  the 
world,  this  same  extra  opportunity  of  being  prepared 
for  the  Return  of  the  Lord,  and  the  Translation  of  His 
Church. 

"For,  for  some  years,  now,  conferences,  and  conven- 
tions, addresses,  Bible-Readings,  etc.,  where  this  subject 
of  the  Second  Coming  of  Christ  has  been  specially  taught, 
has  been  multiplied  mightily.  I  have  been  present  at  some 
of  these  gatherings,  but,  smiling  amusedly  at  what  I 
termed  the  wild  utterances  of  visionaries,  I  neglected  my 
opportunity. 

"Yet,  of  all  men,  /  ought  to  have  been  prepared  for 
this  Coming  of  the  Lord.  I  have  held  ministerial  office 
in  a  church  that  taught  the  doctrine,  plainly,  in  many  of 
its  prayers  and  collects.  But  I  see,  now,  that  all  through 
my  life,  I  have  been  blinded  by  the  letter  of  things,  and 
have  mistaken  christening,  confirmation,  communicating, 
for  conversion,  and  for  life  in  Christ. 

"I  see,  to-day,  that  I  entered  the  established  church  of 
this  realm,  and  not  the  family  of  God,  and  the  service  of 
Christ.  I  have  never  really  been  God's,  by  the  New 
Birth,  until  last  night,  when  my  dear  wife,  in  company 
with  all  the  waiting,  longing  church,  was  suddenly  called 
up  to  be  with  her  Lord.  Not  by  death,  dear  friends — she 
saw  no  death — but  by  that  sudden  translation,  that  has 
startled  us  all  so." 

A  low  sobbing  sound  ran  through  all  the  building.  The 
gathered  thousands,  almost  to  a  man,  realised  that  they, 
with  the  speaker,  were  equally  lifeless,  spiritually. 

"I  was  in  the  room  when  my  wife  disappeared,"  the 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  241 

Bishop  went  on.  ''She  had  been  very  ill.  It  became 
necessary  to  perform  a  critical  operation  on  her.  I 
insisted  on  being  present.     I  see  the  scene  now. 

"The  nurses  standing  by  the  antiseptic  baths  with  the 
sponges  and  clips  immersed.  In  the  eerie  silence  of  that 
room,  no  sound  came  save  the  voice  of  the  great  surgeon, 
as  he  cried  'clip' — 'iodoform' — 'bandages.'  Suddenly,  as 
he  half  turned  to  take  a  bandage  of  the  nurse,  the  form 
of  my  precious  wife  disappeared  from  the  operating  table. 
One  of  the  nurses  at  the  antiseptic  bowl,  was  gone  also. 

"And  I,  a  professed  servant  of  the  Christ  who  had 
called  the  translated  ones,  was  left,  with  the  great  sur- 
geon, and  others,  as  you,  dear  friends,  many,  most  per- 
haps, members  of  some  Christian  church,  have  been  left. 

"  'Sister  Carrie  gone  too !'  cried  the  great  surgeon, 
'then  you  may  depend.  Bishop,  that  Christ  has  come  for 
all  His  real  church,  for  Nurse  Carrie  lived  in  daily,  hourly 
expectation  of  some  kind  of  translation.'  With  a 
puzzled  look  upon  his  face,  he  said,  suddenly : 

"  'But,  Bishop,  how  is  it  that  you  are  left  behind,  who, 
of  all  men  in  our  midst,  one  would  have  thought  would 
have  gone?' 

"I  had  to  say  last  night  to  him,  dear  friends,  what, 
with  shame  and  regret,  I  have  to  say  to  you  now,  that 
I  ought  to  have  known  the  Truth,  and  have  been  pre- 
pared, but  because  I  was  unconverted,  I  had  failed  to 
apprehend  the  fact  of  the  Lord's  near  Return. 

"Yet,  how  often,  on  the  third  Sunday  in  Advent,  have 
I,  with  many  of  you,  repeated  the  Great  Truth,  in  the 
collect : — 

"  'O  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  at  Thy  first  coming, 
didst  send  Thy  messenger  to  prepare  Thy  way  before 
Thee;   Grant  that  the  ministers  and  stewards   of   Thy 


242  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE 

mysteries,  may  likewise  so  prepare  and  make  ready  Thy 
way,  by  turning  the  hearts  of  the  disobedient  to  the 
wisdom  of  the  just,  that  at  Thy  second  coming  to  judge 
the  world,  we  may  be  found  an  acceptable  people  in  Thy 
sight,  who  livest  and  reignest  with  the  Father,  and  the 
Holy  Spirit,  ever  one  God,  world  without  end.     Amen/ 

'Tn  the  burial  of  our  dead,  too,  how  often  have  I 
recited,  and  have  heard  the  words, 

"  'Beseeching  Thee  that  it  may  please  Thee,  of  Thy 
gracious  goodness,  shortly  to  accomplish  the  number  of 
Thine  elect,  and  to  hasten  Thy  Kingdom;  that  we,  with 
all  those  that  are  departed  in  the  True  faith  of  Thy  Holy 
Name,  may  have  our  perfect  consummation  and  bliss,  both 
in  body  and  soul,  in  Thy  eternal  and  everlasting  glory; 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.' 

"Again,  the  words  of  Paul  in  the  matter  of  the  Lord's 
Supper'TiLL  He  Come!'  ought  to  have  opened  my  eyes. 
But  I  confess,  with  shame,  I  have  been  blind,  a  blind 
leader  of  the  blind  " 

Visible  emotion  checked  the  Bishop's  speech,  for  a 
moment.     Recovering  himself,  he  went  on: — 

"A  blind  leader  of  the  blind,  because  unborn  of  God. 
I  ought  to  have  known  that  Christ's  Return  was  near.  I 
should  have  known  it,  had  I  been  spiritually-minded,  by 
the  signs  of  the  Apostasy  which,  (prophesied  to  precede 
the  Second  Coming  of  the  Lord)  have  been  having  their 
fulfilment  all  around   us   for  years. 

"Since  last  night,  I  have  lived  a  whole  life-time.  I 
have  read  the  whole  of  the  Gospels  and  Epistles,  and, 
taking  my  true  place  as  a  lost  soul  before  God,  I  have 
been  born  of  God.  And  now,  here,  in  this  solemn  moment, 
I  bring  to  you  the  Spirit-taught  knowledge  that  has  been 
given  to  me." 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  243 

For  a  few  minutes,  he  traversed  ground  already  cov- 
ered in  these  pages,  then,  continuing,  he  said: — 

"Last  Sunday,  when,  in  all  the  pride  of  my  office,  I 
preached  —  preached  in  my  unconscious  unbelief  —  I 
quoted  those  lines  of  the  poet : — 

"  'They  pass  me  like  shadows,  crowds  on  crowds, 
Dim  ghosts  of  men,  that  hover  to  and  fro, 
Hugging  their  bodies  round  them  like  their  shrouds 

Wherein  their  souls  were  buried  long  ago; 
They  trampled  on  their  youth,  and  faith  and  love, 
With  Heaven's  clear  messages  they  madly  strove. 
And  conquered — and  their  spirits  turned  to  clay  .... 
Alas !  poor  fools,  the  anointed  eye  may  trace 
A  dead  soul's  epitaph  in  every  face.' 

"To-day,  friends,  I  know  that  'the  anointed  eye'  must 
have  traced  'The  dead  soul's  epitaph,'  in  my  life,  if  not 
in  my  face. 

"Now  let  us  face  our  present  position,  as  those  who 
are  left!  What  is  the  future  to  be?  This  is  what  you 
need  to  know,  what  I  need  to  know!  First,  let  me  say, 
the  next  thing  for  each  to  do  is  to  seek  the  Lord,  to  cry 
unto  Him  for  mercy  and  pardon,  while  all  our  hearts 
are  shocked  and  startled,  and  our  thoughts  are  turned 
God-wards.  For  unless  we  close  with  God,  become  His, 
and  live  out  the  future  to  Him,  our  portion  will  be  an 
Eternal  Hell." 

An  awful  hush  rested  upon  the  gathered  thousands,  as 
he  proceeded: — 

"One  thing  appears  very  plain  from  Scripture,  that  is, 
that  when,  last  night,  Christ  came  into  the  air  and  caught 
up  His  Church,  living  and  dead,  that  the  Devil,  who  has 
been  the  Prince  of  the  Power  of  the  air,  had  to  descend  to 
earth.  Christ  and  Beelzebub  can  never  live  together  in 
the  same  realm. 


244  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

"In  the  re-creation  of  this  earth,  recorded  in  Genesis, 
God  blessed  everything  that  He  created,  save  the  aUnos- 
phere,  He  did  not,  He  could  not  bless  that  because  Satan, 
driven  from  the  re-created  earth,  by  the  breath  of  the 
divine  Spirit,  had  taken  refuge  in  the  air.  He  is  there- 
fore called  in  Scripture,  not  only  the  'Prince  of  this 
World'  but  'The  Prince  of  the  power  of  the  air/ 

"Now,  beloved,  the  Spirit  of  God  has  left  the  earth. 
The  Devil  has  taken  up  his  abode  here  with  all  his  myriad 
agents,  and  he  is  going  to  make  earth  as  hot  for  those  of 
us  who  will  witness  for  God,  as  is  hell  itself  to  the  lost. 

"If  we  will  witness  for  God  during  the  years  we  are 
beginning  to-day — called  the  years  of  'The  Great  Tribula- 
tion,' they  will  probably  be  seven  in  number,  and  extend 
therefore  to  the  dawning  moment  of  the  Millenium — if 
we  witness  therefore  for  God,  I  say,  during  these  inter- 
vening seven  years,  we  may  expect  to  meet  with  hideous 
trial  and  suffering. 

"Antichrist  will  now  soon  make  himself  known — he 
will  be  a  man,  not  a  system,  mind, — he  will  mislead  the 
Jews,  who  will  now,  immediately,  return  to  their  own 
land,  and  build  their  New  Temple.  For  a  time,  Anti- 
christ will  appear  to  be  the  friends  of  the  Jews,  but  he 
will  seek  to  force  the  most  awful  idolatry  upon  them. 
The  mass  of  Jewry  will  accept  all  this. 

"With  the  Jew,  every  Gentile  will  presently  be  com- 
pelled to  accept  Antichrist,  and  the  Roman  Beast " 

A  sound  of  protest  was  heard  from  a  seat  near  the 
pulpit,  as  the  Bishop  spoke  of  the  "Roman  Beast."  But 
the  preacher  took  no  note  of  the  interruption  and  went 
on: — 

"The  Devil  will  be  so  mad  at  being  cast  down  out  of 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  245 

heaven,  and  because  he  knows  such  a  very  limited  time 
to  work  against  God,  that  he  will  call  up  all  hell  to  stamp 
out  God's  people." 

For  one  instant  the  Bishop  paused.  He  leaned  over 
the  pulpit  edge,  his  eyes  were  full  of  the  light  of  a  holy 
determination,  but  into  his  voice  there  crept  a  tender 
yearning,  as  he  continued : — 

"Are  we  prepared  for  actual  martyrdom  ?  For  this  will 
certainly  be  the  fate  of  many  who  will  not  bear  about 
upon  them  the  mark  of  the  Beast." 

Again  there  came  a  growl  from  that  seat  near  the 
pulpit.  But  the  most  solemn  hush  rested  upon  the  vast 
mass  of  people. 


Q 


CHAPTER  XX)C 
CONCLUSION. 

UIETLY,  giving  the  impression  that  the  sense  of 

a  great  shame  rested  upon  him,  the  Rev. 

the  noted  popular  Nonconformist  minister  rose  from  his 
seat  and  faced  the  congregation. 

Many  of  his  own  church  were  there.  Many  others, 
w^ho  had  followed  the  criticisms  of  the  more  spiritual- 
toned  Christian  papers,  upon  his  pulpit  and  other  utter- 
ances, were  there.  Every  one  waited  breathless,  wonder- 
ing what  contribution  he  would  make  to  the  great  matter 
in  hand. 

It  was  evident  that  it  was  only  by  the  exercise  of  tre- 
mendous will-power  that  he  could  restrain  his  emotions 
sufficiently  to  speak. 

"God  help  me,  dear  friends !"  he  began,  ''for  I  know 
now  that  I  have  been  a  Judas  to  the  Lord  of  Life  and 
Glory,  whose  professed  servant  I  have  been.  I  have 
gloried  in  my  success ;  in  the  crowd  that  always  filled  my 
church;  in  the  adulation  of  my  intellectual  powers  by 
the  Press.  But  I  have  never  glorified  Christ.  In  a  hun- 
dred subtle  ways  I  have  denied  my  Lord He  is  my 

Lord  now,  I  have  found  Him  in  the  silence  of  the  past 

awful  night  .     I  have  been  practically  denying  His 

deity  for  years,  I  have  talked  learnedly,  when  I  ought  to 
have  been  walking  humbly,  and — and ." 

The  strain  was  too  much  for  him,  tears  streamed  down 
his  face,  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  dropped, 
sobbing,  into  his  seat. 


IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  247 

Sobs  broke  from  many  of  the  people.  Weeping  is 
infectious.  In  another  moment  the  released  pent-up  emo- 
tions would  have  become  a  storm  that  none  could  have 
stayed.     But  the  Bishop's  voice  called  out, 

"Let  us  pray!" 

Every  head  was  bent,  and  a  prayer,  such  as  London's 
Cathedral  had  never  heard  before,  poured  from  the 
Bishop's  lips.  The  conclusion  of  the  prayer  was  followed 
by  a  moment  or  two  of  deepest  stillness. 

The  silence  was,  suddenly,  sharply  broken  by  a  full, 
rich  voice  crying: — 

**Sit  up,  dear  friends  !    Hear  ye  the  word  of  the  Lord !" 

As  the  people  lifted  their  heads  a  cry  of  amaze  rang 
out  from  many  throats : — 

"The  Monk  of  !" 

The  face  of  the  Monk  was  familiar  to  all  Londoners 
by  his  photograph,  which  beside  being  on  sale  in  the  shops, 
had  appeared  again  and  again  in  magazines.  He  had  a 
striking  figure,  and  there  was  a  curious  picturesqueness 
about  his  appearance,  with  his  smooth,  clean-shaven  face, 
eagle  eyes,  tonsured  crown,  and  curious  purple-brown 
cowle'd  habit,  girdled  with  a  stout  yellow  cord  about  the 
waist.  His  bare  feet  were  sandaled.  His  hands,  long, 
thin,  with  white  tapering  fingers,  were  outstretched  a 
moment,  then  dropped  slowly  as  he  went  on: — 

"These  are  times  when  no  one  of  us  may  shrink  from 
speaking  the  truth  boldly,  if  the  Truth  has  been  commit- 
ted to  us. 

"With  all  due  respect  to  our  friend.   Bishop  ,  I 

would  say,  that  all  the  surmises  abroad  in  London,  to-day, 
and  those  that  have  been  voiced  in  our  hearing  here, 
during  this  hour,  are  wrong! 

"'The  true  meaning  of  the  mysterious  disappearance  of 


248  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

so  many  ultra-protestants,  is  this  :  The  great  end  is  near! 
God's  work  was  being  frustrated  by  those  unholy  zealots, 
who  have  been  therefore  graciously  snatched  away  to  hell, 
before  they  could  do  further  mischief.' 

Murmurs  of  dissent  and  protest  ran  through  the  mass 
of  people,  like  the  low  sullen  roar,  at  sea,  of  a  coming 
storm. 

The  Bishop  thought  of  his  Translated  wife.  He  knew, 
too,  that  God  not  only  indwelt  himself,  now,  but  that 
He  had  guided  him  in  speaking  to  the  people.  He  rose 
in  the  pulpit  to  protest  against  the  words  of  the  Romanist. 

But  a  voice  cried  out  from  the  congregation: — 

"Let  the  Monk  have  his  say.  These  are  strange  times, 
and  we  would  hear  all  sides  before  we  can  judge/* 

And  the  Monk  went  on : — 

"His  supreme  Holiness,  the  Pontiff,  had  been  warned 
of  God — as  he  is  God's  Regent  on  earth — of  the  event 
that  has  happened  in  our  midst.  His  priests  were  warned 
a  few  days  ago,  and  in  most  of  our  churches,  last  Sunday, 
certain  dark  hints  of  the  coming  catastrophe  were  given. 
God  therefore,  now,  calls  upon  you  all,  through  me,  to 
turn  to  the  true  church,  the  real  church,  the  church  of 
St.  Peter's,  the  church  of  Rome ." 

A  storm  of  protesting  murmurs  rolled  up  from  the 
people. 

He  waited,  smiling  confidently  a  moment.  Then  he 
went  on : 

"When  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  bear  upon  them 
the  sign  of  the  true  church  " 

"The  Mark  of  the  Beast/"  yelled  a  voice. 

Another  instant  and  there  would  have  been  a  hideous 
uproar,  but  that  everything  became  forgotten  in  a  new 
excitement. 


IN   THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN  EYE  •  249 

From  outside,  in  the  street,  there  rose  the  roar  of  a 
multitude,  crying  "Fire!"  Fortunately  the  packed  con- 
gregation within  the  Cathedral,  one  and  all  realised  that 
the  alarming  thing  was  outside,  not  mside  the  building, 
so  that  there  was  no  panic. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  great  place  was  cleared.  The 
Bishop,  the  Great  Nonconformist,  and  a  dozen  other 
ministers,  and  laymen,  remained  gathered  together  as  by 
a  common  instinct,  by  the  pulpit. 

"What  is  coming,  brethren?" 

"The  power  of  Antichrist,  and  the  manifestation  of  The 
man  of  Sin,  himself,"  cried  the  Bishop,  solemnly.     "The 

Monk  of ,"  he  went  on  "has  been  the  first  to  voice 

the  awful  claims  of  this  Man  of  Sin." 

T*  I*  *F  *1^  ***  T*  T* 

:((  9|c  :)c  :(c  :)c  ^  :(c 

A  week  later!  !  ! 

Like  a  sow  that  returneth  to  the  mire,  London,  Eng- 
land, the  world  had  returned  to  its  old  careless  life.  The 
fever  for  sport,  pleasure,  money-getting,  drinking,  gamb- 
ling, licentiousness,  was  fiercer  than  ever.  Everyone 
aimed  at  forgetting  what  had  happened  a  week  before — 
and  the  bulk  of  the  people  were  succeeding  in  finding  the 
lethal  element. 

There  had  been  many  conversions  during  the  first  forty- 
eight  hours  after  the  Translation  of  the  Church,  but, 
since  then,  scarcely  one.  Already  there  had  arisen,  all 
over  the  land,  all  over  the  world  in  fact,  as  the  American, 
Australasian,  and  Foreign  Press  Telegrams  made  clear, 
a  multitude  of  men  and  women  who  were  preaching  the 
maddest,  most  dangerous  doctrines. 

Among  the  most  popular,  and  successful,  of  these  was 


250  IN  THE  TWINKLING  OF  AN   EYE 

Spiritualism.  Xot  the  comparatively  mild  form  known 
before  the  Great  Translation,  but  an  open,  hideous  blas- 
phemous exhibition  that  proved  itself  to  be,  what  it  had 
really  always  been — demonology. 

Antichrist's  sway  had  begun.  Satan  was  a  positive, 
active,  agent.  The  restraints  of  the  Holy  Spirit  were 
missing,  for  HE  had  left  the  earth  when  the  Church  had 
been  taken  away.  Other  restraints  were  also  taken  from 
the  midst  of  the  people,  since,  whether  the  world  recog- 
nise it  or  not,  the  fact  remains,  that  the  people  of  God  are 
the  Salt,  the  preservative  of  the  earth. 

*  *  *  :}c  *  *  4c 

Final  word !  Whether  or  no,  the  writer  has  failed  in 
the  purpose  he  had  when  he  set  pen  to  paper;  whether 
or  no  he  has  bungled  his  subject;  whether  the  reader  is, 
or  is  not  willing  to  accept  the  main  statements  of  the 
special  teaching  in  this  book,  does  not  really  affect  the 
real  question,  namely,  The  Near  Return  of  our  Lord.  His 
word  to  us,  whether  we  believe  and  accept  it,  or  whether 
we  slight  and  reject  it,  is: — 

"BEHOLD   I   COME   QUICKLY!"     Be   YE  also 

READY,    FOR    IN    SUCH    AN    HOUR    AS    YE    THINK    NOT,    THE 

Son  of  Man  COMETH." 

'Tor  the  Lord  Himself  SHALL  descend  from 
Heaven.  *  *  *  j^^j^  ^^^  dead  in  Christ  shall 
RISE  FIRST :  Then,  we  which  are  alive  and  remain, 
shall  be  Caught  up  together  with  them  IN  THE 
CLOUDS,  TO  meet  the  Lord  IN  THE  AIR:  and  so 

SHALL  we  ever  BE  WITH  THE  LORD.' 

TO  -  DAY   ? 

PERHAPS ! 


The    continuation    of    this    Book    is    published    under    the    title    "The 
Mark    of    the    Beast." 


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AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL   BE  ASSESSED   FOR   FAILURE  TO   RETURN 
-    THIS   BOOK   ON   THE   DATE   DUE.    THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY     AND    TO     $1.00     ON     THE    SEVENTH     DAY 
OVERDUE. 

JAN  20  1936 

rrR            ;^     "JSSB 

LD21-100m-7.'33 

387358 


SITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


